Ocean's Breeze
by xXfireXflyXx
Summary: In a freak accident between the Time Turner and a portkey, Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort find themselves taken from the Battle of Hogwarts, 1998, to Port Royal, early 18th century. Beware the undead pirate scallywags!
1. This big sexy hook

Hermione wasn't sure how she found herself in this predicament. She and Harry had been separated, and Ron was long gone. The Battle of Hogwarts was in full swing, and while there was much to do, Hermione decided to give herself a task that was completely personal. Harry had his horcruxes to vanquish, and Ron focused on staying alive for as long as possible. For Hermione, she wanted to rescue all the invaluable magical objects in Dumbledore's former office. As she raced through the halls, her legs aching and face cut from the recent skirmish with a hooded Death Eater, she knew exactly what she wanted to save, though she wasn't sure what Snape had changed around during his tenure as headmaster. She prayed that most ancient objects had been left in place, but there was little she could do now to trust Snape after his ultimate betrayal to their cause. The girl had to be quick, she knew. It certainly didn't make sense to go on this mission _now_, so soon into the fighting, but there was urgency behind it. The castle was being demolished in the midst of battle, and Hermione cringed as priceless portraits and ancient statues shattered. Hogwarts had been her home for nearly seven years, and she'd be damned if she let a bunch of prejudiced idiots come in and destroy everything of value.

First was Dumbledore's office, next was the library. While she held books in the highest esteem possible, Hermione knew that the objects in her old headmaster's office had more value to the magical world and needed to be protected. With her bottomless bag in hand, she navigated her way up the spiral staircase. The gargoyles were noticeably absent, and Hermione wondered if they had abandoned ship when Snape took over, or when the Death Eaters first penetrated the castle interior. They were warriors in their day, and she was sure they had gone off to join the fight, one that she planned to commence again once she had collected her objects. They ranged from private journals McGonagall told her were hidden under a specific floor board to the Time Turner, along with several charmed portkeys and the Pensieve. If Snape hadn't removed the memories that Dumbledore kept locked in a cabinet with the magical device, Hermione had every intention of taking those too. Not to look at, but for safekeeping. There were plenty of strange people out there, and she wanted to keep personal goods like these safe from their hands.

And, of course, she wanted to study their magical properties, but that went without saying. As she slipped into the headmaster's office, a place she seldom ever visited for anything other than academics in her youth, she decided that Severus Snape had kept things remarkably the same. Some portraits were removed, but all the frames were empty as their occupants were, no doubt, in the fight somehow. Perhaps shouting helpful spell suggestions to some of the younger fighters, as Hermione had heard as she navigated through the battlefields. She paused only momentarily to bask in the untouched room, a room with only a few bits of rubble on the floor and a shattered window from a recent explosion that rocked the entire castle. Voldemort was afoot, probably searching for Harry, and she couldn't risk being cornered by Death Eaters with a desire to loot the place. After her moment of silence passed, she moved hastily through the large office, opening cupboards and drawers. If there was anything of magical value in them, she quickly and delicately placed them in her bag, careful not to knock anything over. She found the Time Turner behind a glass set of doors at the back of Dumbledore's office with a strange necklace resting beside it. She frowned. It certainly didn't look important with its circular locket hanging on a slim gold chain, but if it was next to another valuable magical object, Hermione decided that she shouldn't leave it behind.

With the two necklaces in one hand, Hermione crouched beneath Dumbledore's… Snape's desk and patted along the floorboards, a frown on her lips as she tried to discern which was the trick one. Suddenly, she heard voices in the stairwell, one that she recognized fairly quickly. Lucius Malfoy had a tendency to stick out in her mind after her horrible treatment in his manor courtesy of his sister-in-law. She quickly crouched under the desk and squished herself as far under it as she could. If he wasn't alone, Hermione certainly didn't stand a chance of duelling her way out. He might have been a weakened man from the rages of war, but Lucius Malfoy was still a fairly adequate dueller from what she experienced, and she wouldn't be able to handle more than one Death Eater on her own for long. For now, she decided to try and hide out, hoping they might leave if no one was present. However, as the conversation became clearer, Hermione stiffened. It was a voice she recognized and dreaded at the same time.

"My Lord… I thought… I thought I might go look for my son," Lucius managed weakly as two sets of feet marched into the seemingly vacant office. "Narcissa was very concerned-"

"You can find your boy when the fighting has finished," the Dark Lord informed Malfoy coldly. Hermione's heartbeat quickened and she shut her eyes, focusing on keeping her breathing soft and even. Hopefully he didn't have that bloody snake with him, or Hermione would be found in no time. The voices came closer with each passing second, and Hermione wondered if there was any chance she might be able to make a run for it. Why was he here? What did he want? Surely he ought to be waiting someone for Harry to be discovered! Not that she wished for her best friend to be found by the darkest wizard in their history, but she thought Voldemort might have other priorities tonight.

"You know what to look for," came a nasally hiss. "The objects cannot be summoned magically… I will return you to your wife once you find them for me."

"Y-Yes, my Lord."

Hermione pushed herself further into the corner of the desk, hoping no one needed anything from there, but as she heard footsteps approaching, she realized just how much of a sticky situation she was in. If they found her, Voldemort could kill her on the spot. After all, she was one of Harry's best friends, and had been instrumental in destroying pieces of his soul over the past year. She gulped back a whimper and gripped her wand firmly in one hand, the necklace with a small locket and the Time Turner in the other.

Suddenly, she heard the gut-wrenching steps of Lucius Malfoy march up the stairs to the level where the headmaster's desk sat, and she heard him mutter, "Severus said they were under a floorboard…"

She could attack him, but what good would that do? Voldemort would kill her seconds later for putting up some kind of fight. However, could Hermione Granger accept being taken captive by either man without doing anything to defend herself? Highly unlikely. She glanced down at the Time Turner and realized that might be her only way out. If she could go back in time and take all the objects somewhere safe ahead of time, she wouldn't be in this predicament several hours later. Without fully thinking the plan through, Hermione started turning the device, only to fumble slightly when Lucius Malfoy poked his head under the desk from the side, his eyes widening when they landed on her. She opened her mouth, ready to plead with him to stay silent, but he had already grabbed her and hauled her out from under the desk.

"My Lord," he said quickly, holding her up for Voldemort to view, "Potter's Mudblood companion!"

The deformed man before her stared at Hermione, disgust evident on his face as his scarlet eyes gave her a once over, pausing at her shaking hands.

"What is it she's holding?" he demanded, neither praising Malfoy for finding her nor inquiring what she might be doing in the office. It seemed his interest lay in her magical objects, which wasn't exactly a surprise from all she knew about him. This was the first time Hermione had actually seen him face to face, and in all honesty, he was terrifying. Terrifying in that he could mangle her with a flick of his wand, should he wish to do so, and terrifying because he was the cause of so many deaths in her immediate circle. She hated every inch of him. Hermione wanted to kill him. She wanted to see him fall. For now, unfortunately, she was too frightened for heroics.

The Dark Lord flourished across the room, cloak fluttering around his lithe figure. Hermione suddenly realized how fast she had been turning the Time Turner, with such vigour that she must have clocked in far too many hours for her current purpose. She said nothing as Voldemort snatched both the Time Turner and the locket from her hands, though she felt a firm grasp on the chains to both. With a curious expression on his face, he suddenly pieced the two together. Hermione hadn't noticed, but the pair of dangling objects fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a simple puzzle. She felt Malfoy's hand dig into her shoulder, and then the sudden familiar tug of what she presumed in a fleeting thought was a portkey. This was when she screamed. All three figures tumbled through the magical transport vacuum for what seemed like an eternity, with clocks ticking, people chattering, and women screaming to accompany them. She held tight to the chains of both devices, and Voldemort seemed to do the same with the locket and Time Turner. The only reason she knew Lucius was still around was by the depth of the wounds on her shoulder, which came from his lengthy nails.

Finally, she spotted land below them, and Hermione braced herself for impact. All three landed in a bit of a muddled mess on what appeared to be a wet dock in the middle of the night. The air was warm and thick, a complete contrast to the atmosphere in the United Kingdom. Hermione stumbled away from the two men, and she realized from the scenery that they were certainly no longer at Hogwarts. They appeared to have landed at some island port. There were 18th century looking ships at the docks – something Hermione had studied fondly when she went through her Muggle history phase a few years back – and a calm rumble of ocean waves hitting the hulls. This couldn't be right. Had the locket on the necklace been a portkey? Voldemort had released the two when they landed, and although Hermione was in pain from the sudden crash, her mind was extremely alert. As Lucius managed to get to his feet, she hastily took in more of her surroundings. There was a man asleep at the end of the dock, his feet up on a barrel and a notebook on his lap. Their arrival seemed to have done nothing to wake him. Otherwise, there were no souls on the dock. Their only company were the ships of various sizes. From what she quickly gathered, Hermione assumed they had been transported to some sort of island in the tropics. Why had the necklace the Time Turner been placed together? Had Dumbledore intended for someone to travel here, or was it merely a happy coincidence?

Lucius Malfoy aided Voldemort to his feet, who seemed to also quickly take stock of their environment. At that moment, Hermione knew she needed to act fast if she wanted to get out of here. Naturally, she couldn't leave the most feared wizard in… well, wherever they were, but she sort of fancied the idea of transporting herself home alone and letting the other two men struggle out here. She would certainly save the wizarding world a lot of trouble. However, if the Time Turner had worked, she couldn't let Voldemort ruin the future by muddling up the past. Tricky business, this was. Finally, she decided that she needed time to think, and she couldn't do it with these two ready to throttle her for what she assumed would be her folly.

So, without thinking the plan through, _again_, she ran at Voldemort and shoved her hands as powerfully as she could into his midsection. The unexpected action sent him tumbling over the side of the dock and into the water, plunging in with a noisy splash. Hermione then kicked Lucius in the groin, hard, when he tried to charge her, and took off running down the dock.

A stupid move? Yes. A strategic one? Not necessarily. However, Hermione needed time away to gather her thoughts and figure out how to get out of here. As she held up the Time Turner, her face paled when she saw the little hour glass had been shattered during their clumsy landing moments earlier. Bugger. Fuck. Shit. Piss. _Fuck_! She never swore, but this certainly warranted a few choice words.

Where, and when, the devil was she?

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**Welcome to my nerdgasm crossover fic. I'm going to try to keep people fairly IC, though it'll be a bit of fun with the PotC boys and the HP characters, so people may verge into a little OOC territory, but I will try my hardest to keep them from going too overboard. **

**I haven't decided if there will be a romance, and WHO it will be with… If people have a preference, I'm open to suggestions. Will/Elizabeth will be canon, but I was thinking a potential Hermione flame of some kind. **

**I'm RIDICULOUSLY excited to write PotC fiction again. I think I've only written it once or twice, and I'm so pumped to do it again. Are we excited? I'm excited. **

**The prologue may not have been the most interesting thing of life, but it's a prologue. They aren't super fun. Though, I am endlessly amused at a slightly frazzled Hermione shoving Voldemort into the ocean, kicking Malfoy in the nuts, and then booking it to safety. Run, Hermione, ruuun!**

**I didn't give much in the way of clothing descriptions and whatnot like I usually do, but I'm exhausted, and just wanted to post this sucker before bed. Soooo those types of nitty gritty things will be in the following chapters. **

**Love, love, love!**


	2. The night starts now

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what made her want to run. Naturally, there was a combination of factors that came together as justification for a desire to get away from Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy. Firstly, they were her enemies, and had been since she started school. In fact, people like them had been the moment she realized that she wasn't quite normal. As a witch in a Muggle family, Hermione was destined for prejudice and bias from elitists and bigots like the Dark Lord and his followers. Malfoy only happened to stand out because his brat of a son had pestered her since day one of Hogwarts, the instant Draco decided he didn't like Harry, and by extension Hermione with her frizzy hair and oversized teeth. Because of their history, both men would probably want to do some sort of bodily harm to her. She wasn't sure if they would risk using magic here – Hermione had carefully tucked her wand away in her never-ending bag to avoid such a temptation – but if they did, she was sure she wouldn't survive it to ever return home. Most of all, she had zero trust in either of them. From all the literature she had consumed, she always knew that should one every travel through time (and in this case space) with another individual, one should have complete faith in them. Otherwise, something is bound to go wrong, and you and a friend will be responsible for ruining some sort of complex time continuum. After all, when she traveled back in time with Harry, he did exactly what she told him to do during their third year. She had complete faith in him, and complete control over the majority of the situations that took place.

Here, she was out of her element. They weren't even in England anymore! Hermione may have traveled the United Kingdom extensively with her parents on summer and winter holidays as she grew up, but the farthest she had gone was France. Once. This place was clearly tropical, clearly sometime long in the past, and judging from the British flags fluttering in the night's breeze, she could assume that people here would speak English. Thinking back to her Muggle history classes, she came to the conclusion that this had to be a Caribbean colony for the British, though she was at a loss as to its name. As she darted through narrow cobblestone streets, which ranged from rancid smelling to mildly tolerable, depending on the direction of the wind, Hermione noticed that there were no major landmarks to give her position away. It must have been fairly late at night, as most of the shops windows were dark, though the streetlamps managed to keep the area lit just enough for her to find her way around. Not that she had any idea where she was going, but anywhere away from Voldemort and Malfoy seemed like a pretty good start.

Firstly, she needed to get her Time Turner fixed. She wasn't sure if the glass on the device would require magical material, or if normal glass would be suffice. After that question was answered, Hermione needed to actually find somewhere that could mend her contraption without asking too many questions. While huddling behind a statue in a little cove, she tried various incantations, none of which were successful, to repair the Time Turner. None of the glass regrew. It was as if someone had cursed it to keep magic from having an effect. After a few frustrating attempts, Hermione put it away. She was smarter than this! After all, she had spent the last several months with Harry and Ron discovering new and inventive ways to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes! If she could do that, she was more than capable of finding someone here who could mend glass. Once the task was completed, she would be forced to alter their memory, otherwise she was bound to ruin the fabric of time. If she did that, she wasn't exactly sure what type of future she would return to. However, from everything she had read, wizards who meddled in the past always had an unfortunate, horrible present when they were finished. If Hermione could help it, she wasn't about to spoil anything. Now, she couldn't say the same for her traveling companions, but she was pretty sure Voldemort would be well aware of the potential dangers of time travel. Even if Malfoy fumbled, the Dark Lord, one of the most powerful wizards of their century, was bound to come up with a fix.

Secondly, Hermione needed to get her head screwed on straight. She hadn't the slightest idea about what she was doing. Time travel in her younger teen years was so much easier. All she did was pop back and forth in order to attend as many classes as possible, in the end furthering her academic and intellectual prospects tenfold over her classmates. Unfortunately, this incident was nothing like that. If she didn't catch something from the –rumoured – poor conditions of English colonies back in the early 18th century (her best guess, judging by the stylings of the Union Jack, buildings and ships in the harbour), Hermione still needed to keep herself hidden, but at the same time find someone to fix her hourglass, and then contend with one of the most fearsome wizards of all time and his crony.

What was she doing?

Honestly, if Hermione stopped for one second to fully process her situation in more detail than she already had, a giant wave of panic took over. She was a logical young woman. Intelligent would be putting it lightly, but she felt completely out of her element here. In fact, she felt lost. She couldn't bring herself to go back to her modern companions for fear of what they would do to her, but she also couldn't waltz up to a person from the past and spoil time fabrics and whatnot. After all, her clothing was enough to make her stand out as some oddball. If people discovered she was a witch, she could quite possibly face being put to the stake! She couldn't quite remember if the witch hunt was alive and well during this era, or if it even reached the British colonies. She knew they stopped it in Britain sometime earlier, though it continued in the New World for some time longer. Oh, if only she had taken all that spare time tromping around in the bush to brush up on her Muggle history! Honestly, it was a general interest of hers. There was even a small section in her little sac dedicated to Muggle literature. She had both fiction and non-fiction texts on a variety of subjects, all of which she had planned to read whenever she had a little downtime over the course of her expedition with Harry and Ron. Unfortunately, there wasn't ever really downtime on the run, and the books lay forgotten in her bag.

If she had the proper light, she might have ventured in there to retrieve them and give something a quick scan. Perhaps it would offer her more ammo to properly combat this ridiculous situation she found herself in. Unfortunately, just as she starting rummaging, she heard a group of male voices, drunken by the sounds of their slurring, coming her way. If there was a group of them, she wouldn't be able to alter _all_ of their memories within a span of a night. Also, the risk of being spotted lugging off several grown males to perform magic on seemed quite high in the little port city. Therefore, to avoid a scene, Hermione slipped into a back alley, gasping loudly as a cat scuttled out from nowhere and leapt into an open window. The beast hissed at her, its hackles high in the air, and then disappeared inside.

She wasn't superstitious, but if she was, Hermione would have taken that as a bad sign. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Hermione glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one had followed her. When she realized she was quite alone, aside from the rambunctious laughter at the end of the alley from those drunkards, she hurried along, careful not to trip over or step on anything. One little thing was enough o spoil time continuums and all that. However, as she neared the end of the alley, which appeared to empty into another street, she heard the word 'Mudlbood' whispered dangerously in her ear. Shrieking a little in shock, Hermione tumbled over her own feet in sheer surprise and literally fell out of the alley. As she did so, she fell right into a British soldier, clad in his red coat, white slacks and wig. It was like falling into one of her history books. They both stumbled forward, him taking the brunt of her fall, but she soon found several large bayonets in her face.

"I'm so sorry," she managed as she stumbled to her feet, clutching her sac tightly. "I lost my footing-"

"Why are you out this late?" the soldier demanded, rifle at face level, "A curfew was issued!"

"I… I didn't know," Hermione managed, her voice a tad squeaky. "I'm sorry!"

Behind them was a rather elegant looking carriage, around which several soldiers were gathered. Suddenly, the door popped open, and a much older man stuck his head out, which had a lengthy grey wig and feathered hat atop it.

"What's all the trouble, Captain?"

"I'm sorry, Governor Swann," the supposed captain replied, "but we've got a young lady not obeying curfew."

"I wasn't aware we had one!" Hermione babbled, too frazzled with any of this to think rationally. "I'm not from… here!"

The soldiers around her scoffed noisily. Much to her surprise, this Governor Swann fellow clicked his tongue, but not at her.

"Honestly, get your weapons out of her face," he insisted as he clambered out of the carriage. "You'll scare her half to death!"

The guns were slowly lowered, and Hermione released a puff of air she hadn't realized she had been holding. He took a few steps closer as the guards fanned out, still clearly on the defensive should she try anything, but the situation seemed momentarily diffused.

"My goodness, girl," the governor chuckled, his eyes running up and down her body, "but what are you wearing?"

Oh… fudge. Hermione cleared her throat, quickly trying to formulate some story that might explain her jeans and sweater combination that she had been wearing for nearly a week at this point, "Oh, these are my… brother's… clothes. We were… lost at sea, and our ship sank. We… uhm, survived in the rescue boat, but he succumbed to… hunger and is no longer with us."

The man gave her a hard look, and despite the kindness of his facial features, she could tell he was trying to gauge whether her story as true. Oh, if only she could use a spell in this situation. Everything would go much smoother if she could just use magic! However, after a moment or two of calculated looks, he sighed and patted her shoulder.

"So sorry to hear about your loss, my dear," Governor Swann insisted, giving her a small smile. "The sea is dangerous… Do you have any idea where you are?"

"No, sir."

"Well, let me be the first to welcome you to Port Royal," he beamed, arms outstretched to show off. "It's on the southern end of Jamaica, and I am the governor. I suspect you voyaged out of England?"

"Straight from London, sir," Hermione lied, casting her eyes down respectfully. "My father intended to find work with a friend in Trinidad."

"And what did your father do?"

Hermione bit her lower lip, and then looked up, "He was a… healer. He practiced as a physician in London."

"What an unfortunate loss indeed then," the governor decided with a nod. "We are always in need of men versed in the arts of medicine."

"He was certainly accomplished, sir. We were all very proud of him."

The soldiers seemed to relax a little as the conversation carried down, and Hermione noticed that most had slung their bayonets over their shoulders. Honestly, Muggles were once so barbaric. Mind you, when she thought about the tragedies caused by Voldemort, she decided wizards could match Muggles tit for tat in brutality any day.

"My goodness, child, you're bleeding," Governor Swann said suddenly, leaning a little closer to examine a small cut Hermione had on her cheek. She must have gotten it from falling debris at Hogwarts, and absently wiped it away. Until now, she hadn't even noticed it.

"It's nothing-"

"Nonsense," the man insisted. "It should be attended to. I have a private physician on hand… Why don't you come with me, and we'll have it fixed."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, my lord?" one of the soldiers inquired, "We should look into her story first."

"Don't be ridiculous," the older man mused, waving off the suggestion. "She looks terrible, but she speaks like a proper English gentlewoman. And, if I'm not too forward to say, looks exactly like my Elizabeth…"

He trailed off, staring at her a little with his head slightly cocked to the side, "My girl is only eighteen, you see… She looks very similar to you. Perhaps you two might become fast friends!"

"That would be very nice, my lord," Hermione forced out, her mind racing. She shouldn't even be talking with _these_ people, let alone their relations!

"Our horses had their reigns tangled," he told her as he ushered her toward the carriage. "Must have been an act of fate, otherwise you might have been wandering the streets for some time. It can be dangerous after dark… I imposed a curfew for women and children for their own safety, you see. Come along… I'll see to getting you something warm to eat and something a little more suitable to wear."

Hermione laughed weakly and thanked him. She stood aside as a solider helped the governor into the carriage first, and then moved back to give her a hand. As she too his gloved one, she heard the word 'Mudblood' whispered in her ear again. Looking over her shoulder quickly, her eyes widened when she spotted Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy lurking in the shadows of the alleyway, the former's scarlet eyes watching her unflinchingly. She wanted them to step in, and yet she didn't. Given the choice between the bumbling, yet friendly, Governor Swann and her sworn enemies, Hermione decided that she liked Swann better.

"I'm sorry, my child, but I didn't catch your name," he said as she manoeuvred awkwardly into the carriage.

"Hermione," she replied, giving him a genuine smile. "Hermione… Granger."

What was the harm in giving her name? She had already spoiled the time continuum by getting in the carriage, so she may as well have gone for the gusto.

"What a lovely name, Hermione," Swann said as the door slammed shut. "A very lovely name indeed!"

* * *

><p>"My lord," Lucius hissed, glaring at the carriage as it rolled away, ridiculous Muggle men in red coats and black triangular hats in tow. "Are we just going to let her escape? She's <em>ruined <em>the rules of Time Travel-"

"If we were to do anything now, we would be no better than her," Voldemort droned, silencing his servant in an instant. "We are on an island, Lucius. Islands are remote, and the people huddle in one spot. If we need to, we'll obliviate everyone here until their memories are exactly to our liking."

The man sighed, leaning his head against the wall of the disgusting alley they found themselves in. Lucius was weak. All he wanted was to go home and find his family, and Voldemort knew that. It would make him reckless. While he wasn't exactly thrilled to be here either, he wasn't as off-put as the other two were. They would return to Hogwarts at some point, and the battle for dominion of the wizarding world would commence for them again very soon. However, for now, he was pleased to see the Time Turner and the portkey worked. Naturally, it was a little ahead of schedule, but they worked all the same.

"We must focus on getting the Mudblood back," Voldemort informed his servant. "She has what we need now and for the future."

"Are we going to leave her here?"

"Don't be so naïve, Malfoy," Voldemort snapped coldly, making the man flinch a little. "If we do, she might find a way to soil our lines, perhaps even eradicate them entirely. She might be a simpering little girl, but from what I can tell, Dumbledore put almost as much faith in her as Potter. She is not to be underestimated."

"Of course, my lord, I was just-"

"We will get her back," Voldemort continued as he stepped fluidly out of the alley, "and we will be careful not to alter much for the future. However, should something happen to her, some sort of peril that brings her close to death, I don't think I'll shed a tear."

"No, not at all, my lord."

"We must not be careless, Lucius," Voldemort hissed, his hands clamped behind his back. "We must find a base, and a host to influence. Keep your wand out… There are a lot of drunken Muggles in this hovel. Don't hesitate to end _their_ line."

"Of course, my lord."

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**Governor Swann was kind of always a favourite of mine. I think he's actually so freakin' cute (and I totally cry at his boat scene every single time in PotC 3), and wouldn't turn away a girl who A) looks like Elizabeth and B) is so clearly innocent and lost and cut up. Sooo. Logical turn of events, folks! We'll be meeting an infamous pirate in the next chapter, and we'll follow up on what our resident baddies are doing. **

**I actually feel bad for Lucius. All he freakin' wanted was to find Draco and gtfo. But instead, he got taken back in time with a man who clearly terrifies him, and a girl he's been raised to loathe. Poor guy. **

**I was so shocked at how many people favourited this, or added it to their alert lists. Hoooray! I hope you all stick around, and vote for it in my weekly polls!**

**Also, I'm not sure how many people will notice, so I'll just put the disclaimer now - the chapter titles come from Lonely Island's fantastic 'Jack Sparrow' ft. Michael Bolton. Like a champ.**

**Love love loveeee!**


	3. Here we go

When Hermione felt herself coming to, the first thing she noticed was that she was in a ridiculously comfortable bed. She smiled, stretched, and decided to try to keep dreaming for as long as possible. Unfortunately, it only took a matter of seconds for her to remember exactly what had happened the night before. Governor Swann turned into the sweet older gentleman she expected, but Hermione was constantly on her guard. Considering she barely would have known how to act in the wizarding world had she accidentally gone back nearly three centuries, she felt almost entirely out of her elements here and now. After all, her elementary school teachings barely went in depth about the British colonies. She recalled Jamaica, and Port Royal being one of the last few ports in this period that was not friendly to piracy, even privateers under the Queen, but that would all change in time. Otherwise, she knew very little about cultural norms and customs. For now, she decided to try to be on her best behaviour, avoid any obscenely modern slang, and hope to inquire about someone who could fix glass objects as soon as possible. She wasn't exactly sure where Voldemort and Lucius spent the night, but as she rolled around in her plush bed in the guest bedroom, she almost didn't care. This was the first real bed she had slept on since last summer, and she wanted to savour every ounce of it. While on the run, she, Harry and Ron usually slept on cots, and they rotated who got the more comfortable one.

But this… This was sheer perfection! They pulled up to a grandiose manor atop a hill after a short drive from where Swann picked Hermione up. She was a little hesitant at first, but when the solider who helped her out of the carriage smiled politely, she felt herself softening. A maid greeted Hermione and the governor when they entered the manor's lofty foyer, complete with a golden chandelier and curving staircase up to a second floor. There seemed to be expensive, thin rugs left, right and centre, along with colourful bouquets of tropical flowers, suits of armour, and paintings of men in white wigs. In a way, it almost felt like being back in Hogwarts, maybe even the Gryffindor Common Room. They arrived home just as his daughter, who was the same age as Hermione, was getting ready to go to bed, and it seemed like he was quite excited for the two to meet. When they did, Hermione understood why he thought they looked alike. She might have been a little more tan, this Elizabeth Swann, but she was roughly Hermione's height, had the same long brown hair, thin lips, and nose that jutted out delicately at the end. They also both had dark brown eyes, a relatively petite figure, with a small bust and miniscule hips. They wouldn't pass as twins, but sisters for sure.

Elizabeth kindly welcomed Hermione to her home, and when her father explained Hermione's "tragic story", the one she made up on the spot, the girl seemed remarkably interested in having a night gab. However, the maid stepped in, a Londoner if Hermione had ever heard one, and insisted that both girls ought to get some sleep before anything happened. So, Hermione and Elizabeth made a polite plan to have tea tomorrow afternoon so they could discuss her recent tragic loss. Hermione was then led off to a room down the hall from Elizabeth's, and the maid helped her strip down and change into something a little more appropriate. She insisted that she keep her old clothes, and planned to hide them away in her never-ending bag, but the maid wouldn't give them back until she washed them properly. It seemed fair, since her jeans had definitely seen better days, but she had to make sure she got them back before she left. Not that she figured she would get herself sorted by tomorrow, but the less time she spent in Port Royal, the better.

For now, she didn't see a problem basking in a few momentary luxuries. When her body finally decided it was time to get up, the girl rolled out of bed and nearly danced across the tiled floor, drawing back her curtains to reveal the glorious scenery. The island was absolutely stunning. She had a view that overlooked the port, with crystal blue waters in the distance, and a rather large hill to the far left covered in the richest green plants she had ever seen. After fiddling with the lock a little, she managed to open the window and allow the salty air to roll in. After living in England for her entire life, this was marvellous. Why hadn't she gone somewhere tropical sooner? There was a soft knock on her door, and she flinched, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest.

"Miss?" came the soft voice of the maid from last night, "Are you awake?"

"O-Oh…" Hermione laughed, running a hand through her slightly ratty hair, "Yes, come in."

The maid popped her head and smiled, and then stepped inside, "I thought I heard the window open… Would you like to join Governor Swann for breakfast? My mistress is never up to eat with him. I'm sure he would like the company."

"Yes, that would be very nice," Hermione said decidedly, grasping the long, flowered overcoat that had been left hanging on a hook by the window. She assumed it was meant to act as some sort of dress robe, because it certainly wasn't appropriate to go downstairs in her nightgown. It was one with a fitted bodice just under her chest, and then fell loosely to the ground. It was modest yet not all in one.

"How did you sleep?" the maid inquired as Hermione followed her out of the room.

"Wonderfully," she sighed as she buttoned up the top pearl button of her robe. "I really must thank you for your hospitality."

"He's a generous man, Governor Swann," the woman chuckled brightly. "Never one to turn away a stray… Especially one that looks so much like his Elizabeth."

Hermione pursed her lips, "Yes. I did … see the similarities."

She hoped this comparison to Elizabeth would stop soon, because it was already starting to get a bit repetitive. However, she heard it another few times as the maid led her through the manor and introduced her to other members of the staff, including a butler, a cook and several other maids, all of which were well in their thirties at least. Hermione humoured them the best she could with smiles and agreements that she did indeed look like the other Swann in the household, but found she was quite relieved when she spotted an open set of French glass doors leading to a veranda. It appeared the governor was having his breakfast on a large balcony.

"Ah, Hermione," he beamed as she stepped outside, eyes squinting when they were struck by the strong Caribbean sun. "What a surprise!"

"I hope you don't mind me joining you for some breakfast?" she inquired as the maid pulled out a slender chair for her and began clearing a space in front of her, no doubt to set up another plate and cup.

"Not at all, my dear," the man grinned, turning himself to face her rather than the view. "Elizabeth never joins me for breakfast… I've heard it's best to let young women get their beauty sleep, especially at this age."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, and then realized he was serious. She quickly nodded and thanked the maid as she poured her a glass of juice in what appeared to be a crystal glass.

"Now, how did you sleep?"

"Very well, my lord," she replied as she hesitantly scooped some scrambled eggs and sliced pineapple onto her plate, which was white and rimmed with what appeared to be a family crest. "Thank you so much for letting me stay with you… I wasn't sure what I was going to do with myself."

"Well, I couldn't let you just wander the streets, now could I?" Swann mused, shooting her a quick wink as he sipped daintily on what she guessed was tea, "I sent someone to look for your vessel, but we found nothing in the harbour."

Hermione felt her stomach knot, and she forcefully swallowed her bite, "Ah, yes, well… Someone must have taken it! Oh, those wretches!"

"Yes, you must be careful these days," he sighed, shaking his head. "Though, if you forgot to tie it, it might have drifted out of the harbour."

Yes, that was a much better story. She nodded, "Now that you mention it, I think I did forget to rope it off. I was quite dazed when I arrived."

"And with good reason, I assure you!"

She nodded, "Yes… It's difficult to think about."

"I won't make you relive it," he insisted, "but Elizabeth will be interested in the sailing portion of your journey. She does love the ocean. When we sailed here eight years ago, she wanted nothing more than to meet a pirate!"

She laughed weakly, only to go along with him, and he shook his head, "Silly girl. Can you imagine? Pirates in Port Royal? Absurdity."

"Yes, no doubt."

They sat in silence for some time, perhaps to allow Hermione a chance to get through her breakfast without constantly pausing to speak. It was delicious, but eggs and pineapple seemed to taste the same no matter what year she ate it in. However, she was grateful. If she hadn't been found by Swann, she might have been left stealing something down in town, as she had nothing to offer in terms of payment. She could barter with the endless items in her purse, but she certainly wasn't willing to fork over some of her time's most cherished items for a loaf of hard bread.

"I was wondering if you would like to attend an event today?" Swann asked suddenly, making Hermione's eyebrows shoot up curiously. "The captain of our naval forces here, James Norrington, is being promoted to Commodore today."

"Oh, how lovely for him," Hermione managed, smiling. The governor nodded.

"There will be a ceremony as he ascends up to his new rank, and a bit of a party afterward," the man explained. "I am bringing Elizabeth, but she does get so horribly bored at these things. Would you… be interested in attending as a friend?"

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice as friendly as possible, "That sounds wonderful, as long as Elizabeth doesn't mind me coming along."

"Oh, I'm sure she won't!"

Blast. She had wanted to see if she might be able to find someone to fix the Time Turner today, but apparently that would have to wait.

"How long do you think the party will go for?"

"I suspect sometime in the afternoon," Swann replied, tapping his fingers on the table. "Now, I'm not sure if you are interested, but I had some dresses shipped here from England for my girl. You obviously have nothing to wear… Would you like to try them on?"

"Thank you, my lord," Hermione gushed. "You're so very generous."

"Excellent," the man said, rubbing his hands together. "I'll have some maids help you get ready then. We'll be leaving in an hour, and I shall need to get Elizabeth ready at some point. Excuse me."

She nodded as he rose from the table and departed back inside. The man looked ridiculous, by modern standards anyway. A long grey wig, high white socks, a blue jacket with a cravat… Surely this style was all the rage now, but Hermione was just thankful she wouldn't have to wear all those layers in this heat. The breeze was excellent on the balcony, but she was quite sure once they moved further down into the town it would start to become a little unbearable. When she finished with her meal, she found a different maid waiting for her at the doorway to walk her back to her room. She was given some time to freshen up in the lavatory, which was much needed, and when she was ready, they started dressing her. It was at that moment that Hermione regretted her earlier sentiments. Apparently, the governor hadn't ordered only dresses from England, but a few pairs of corsets too. The maids fretted over it, excited to see the latest fashion from London had arrived, and Hermione stood awkwardly for some ten minutes as they laced her into the death contraption.

When they were finally finished, the women gathered around her to examine her miniscule waist. Hermione glanced down at her breasts, which were the biggest she had ever seen them, and tried to breathe, which proved quite difficult with her ribcage constricting her lungs.

"How does it feel?" one of them asked curiously. She licked her lips, suddenly a little lightheaded.

"I… It will take some getting used to," she told them carefully. They carried on with their chatter, as though Hermione wasn't there, and then picked out a dress for her to wear. She wasn't particularly thrilled with its pale pink hue, but it did have wonderful, intricate gold designs around it, and once she was strapped in, she was given the opportunity to look in a full-length mirror. If she was being honest, she looked… different. Hermione hadn't decided if it was a good or bad difference, but she certainly didn't look unattractive. Her hips seemed full, while her waist was small, and her breasts were _definitely_ the largest she had ever seen them. The maids then set about to taming her hair, which took much more effort than the corset, and was actually more painful. She hadn't exactly been looking after her hair since she went on the run some months ago, and it was a long, tangled mess when the women went to work on it. She found it very uncomfortable to sit for so long in a dress and corset, but she managed to not complain as the women tugged and pulled at her hair.

Eventually, she managed to style it into some intricate updo, which Hermione wasn't exactly a huge fan of, but she knew she would appreciate the hair off her neck later. They added a few final touches, including some sort of lip balm to keep hers from drying out, and then a pair of square-toed shoes with the slightest of heels.

"We'll find you a hat before you go," the final maid told her as they scuttled out. "Maybe you should check with Miss Elizabeth to see when you are leaving."

"I will, thank you."

She watched the final woman leave, and then checked to make sure her bag was still where she had left it. Although she had let them take her former clothes, Hermione wasn't about to let this precious item out of her sight. Not only did it have almost everything she ever valued from Hogwarts in it, the Time Turner and Portkey were also nestled down somewhere near the book collection. If she lost those, she was stuck in the eighteenth century forever with Lucius and Voldemort. That wasn't a fate she was willing to succumb to just yet.

After giving herself another once over, Elizabeth sauntered down the long hallway to Elizabeth's room. The door was slightly ajar, and she could vaguely heard her father speaking with someone in the foyer downstairs. She slipped inside the young woman's room, and soon spotted her seated in front of a vanity. She seemed a little paler than last night, but smiled the same smile when she spotted Hermione in the mirror. They looked remarkably similar in their dresses and fancy hairstyles, though Elizabeth seemed to be wearing the blue and silver version of her dress.

"You look pretty," Elizabeth insisted as she rose, grabbing a hat off her bed post and placing it atop her head. "Is that another dress father bought from England?"

"It is-"

"And are you wearing the same ridiculous contraption I am?" she asked, her voice friendly, but her eyes glared down pointedly at her midsection. Hermione grinned a little and nodded, which made Elizabeth roll her eyes, "I can hardly breathe!"

"I've never actually worn one before," Hermione admitted truthfully. "I'm not sure why they were so popular."

"Were?" Elizabeth repeated as she tied her hat's blue sashes down under her chin, "Aren't they quite modern?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said quickly, her cheeks blushing. "I just… I've known women who have worn them before back in England, and they seemed perfectly at ease."

"They must survive without breathing…"

"I agree," Hermione giggled, pleased that she was hopefully making a fast friend. She had never been terribly good at getting on good terms with girls. For some reason, all the girls in her dorm liked her, but never enough to invite her out for private 'girly' things with them. In all honesty, she thought she got along better with boys, but that was just her opinion. "Thank you for letting me come along."

"Thank _you_ for coming," Elizabeth exhaled, her voice dropping. "These things are _so_ boring, and I never have anyone my age to talk to."

Hermione couldn't help but beam; they were definitely going to be on good terms, at the very least, "Well, I'll try to be entertaining then."

"We can talk about your voyage," Elizabeth gushed, "seeing as our afternoon plans have been spoiled."

"Oh… yes, we can," Hermione agreed, fiddling with some of the rough fabric on her dress. "So, who is Norrington?"

"James Norrington," Elizabeth sighed, "is a captain about to become a commodore. My father is especially keen on getting us married."

She seemed less than impressed with the notion, and Hermione gauged from her facial expression and tone that marriage to this Norrington fellow seemed like a bad idea.

"You don't seem too pleased with that," she said tentatively, which made Elizabeth look up quickly and seemingly force a smile.

"Oh, he's a lovely gentleman-"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Hermione insisted, wanting to keep them on friendly terms. "I once had this boy try to… erhm, court me. He took me to this club, the Slug Club, back in England, and it was an absolute nightmare. My friend Harry stepped in, thankfully, and I managed to escape more or less intact."

"Sounds dreadful!"

Hermione frowned; she seemed to play it off as worse than it was. McCormac just couldn't keep his hands to himself back in sixth year. She had only gone to Slughorn's party with him to make Ron jealous, but that plan definitely backfired pretty quickly.

"Oh, he just couldn't keep his hands to himself," Hermione told her, waving it off like it was nothing. "Though… Harry was excellent that night. Why don't I do that for you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know… If you find yourself forced into uncomfortable conversation with him, just give me some signal and I can come rescue you," Hermione explained. That was what girls did for each other whenever there were unnecessary boys involved, wasn't it? She was sure she heard Lavender and Parvati discuss rescuing each other from parties and Hogsmeade visits before. Elizabeth seemed to contemplate the offer, toying with the one ringlet of curly light brown hair that dangled down from her bun, and then suddenly looked up at Hermione, flashing a pearly white smile.

"That actually sounds wonderful!"

"Good," Hermione said with playful smile. "Now, we just need to work out a signal-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, ladies," one of the maids said from the doorway, a pink hat in her hands, "but your father is ready to leave, Miss Swann."

Elizabeth sighed again, and then gave herself one last look in the mirror. She seemed almost as indifferent to the dress and corset as Hermione was, but would no doubt put on a bright face for her father when they saw him next. Hermione held out her hand to accept the hat from the maid, but the woman instead placed it on top of her head and laced it up behind her bun. They looked so alike it was actually a little silly. She wondered if the manor staff had done this on purpose. Though, she had never had a sister before; was this what parents did when they had two girls? Surely not in her era, but in a time where what your father said was the absolute law, it actually wasn't too surprising. She had to keep forcefully reminding herself that she wasn't in the 20th century anymore, but the 18th. Things were certainly going to be different. Suddenly, she stopped, and realized that she had set her bag down in her room.

"One moment," she insisted, holding up a finger, "I forgot my bag. I'll meet you downstairs."

She was quite surprised at how comfortable everything felt. Hermione assumed it was she managed to pluck up some confidence in herself and not shy away from the situation like some little girl. If she hid in her room the entire time, she was bound to struggle out here. She had learned over her seven years at Hogwarts that there was a difference between being arrogant and assertive. Hermione learned that she had to find her own footing in this world, sometimes with the help of her friends, but all the while learn to be confident in her abilities. If she hadn't been quick thinking, or eloquent speaking, she could have ended up in some dingy prison so "assaulting" a guard, as they were bound to put it. However, she steered this incident in a way that worked out well for her. Now, if it meant playing along with Swann's little ceremony and perhaps making friends with Elizabeth for a few days while she got her bearings sorted, then that was what she had to do. It wasn't ideal, or anything, but she was coming to terms with what was required of her to get home in one piece. Besides, she would need time to think. Getting out of here couldn't possibly happen in a day. Also, Hermione was secretly over the moon about being able to study eighteenth century British colonial cultures firsthand. It would have been better if they were wizards too, but beggars can't be choosers. She was living every historian's dream.

After she snatched her bag up and slung it over her shoulder, she hurried back out into the hall, only to fumble when she felt a familiar voice hissing in her ear. She knew exactly who it was. Voldemort had managed to penetrate the minds of witches and wizards from immeasurable distances, so it wasn't all that surprising he was tormenting her from somewhere else in the harbour. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed him off the dock…

Hermione winced and tried to block the sound out, but was forced to lean against the wall for support as it started to get louder and louder. Could everyone else hear this? He was only hissing things like '_Mudblood'_ and '_Where_ _are_ _you_, _Mudblood?_', but it was still incredibly off-putting. The closest Hermione had ever come to Voldemort was through Harry, and it made her extremely uncomfortable to know she was his sole focus now. With her eyes clenched shut, she felt her head begin to throb, her knees weakening, until finally a hand clutched her arm suddenly. She gasped, startled as the voices stopped instantaneously, only to find herself staring up at one of the older maids, who appeared concerned.

"Are you all right, Miss?" she asked, her eyes imploring as they ran over Hermione's figure, "You looked a fright!"

"I'm fine," Hermione reassured her, nodding slightly despite the quiver in her voice. "I just… I've been getting severe headaches from the sun and sea. They come and go."

The woman shot her a somewhat sceptical look, but said nothing else. Hermione smiled weakly, and then carried on as though nothing had happened, pushing some stray hairs back neatly under her hat. She soon joined Elizabeth and her father downstairs, only to see they had been joined by a rather handsome young man not much older than herself. Dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, a brown jacket, short slacks with high white socks, and kind eyes. He was attractive, but even as Governor Swann introduced her to him, this young Will Turner, she could tell he only had eyes for Elizabeth. He smiled at Hermione, took her hand and kissed it, but looked sheepishly at Elizabeth as the governor explained who he was.

"He's an apprentice blacksmith in Port Royal," the man explained. "We found him shipwrecked on our way from England… Almost like you-"

"A blacksmith?" Hermione said quickly, not meaning to cut him off, but not wanting to lose her idea, "Do you fix glass?"

Will blinked at the direct question, and then cleared his throat, "I have some experience with it, yes."

"Oh, wonderful," Hermione gushed, her eyes wide. "An hourglass of mine broke on the journey here… It has great sentimental value. Do you think you could fix it?"

He looked quickly at the governor, and then licked his lips, "I can try my best, Miss Granger."

"Excellent," she said firmly, patting her bag. "I'll…"

She suddenly trailed off, realizing that she was acting too much like an independent woman of the twentieth century for this kind of situation. Instead, she turned to the governor, her keeper, and asked, "May I see Mister Turner about getting my hourglass fixed today?"

The older man shrugged, "I don't see a problem. I will find someone to escort you after the ceremony… Which we are almost running late for now. Come along, girls."

Hermione shot Will a quick smile and scurried off after the governor, pleased with the sudden turn of events. Elizabeth lingered for only a moment, but soon followed Hermione into the same carriage from the night before. As they rolled way, she noticed her female companion shoot Will a look out the small window on the carriage door, but chose to ask the governor about Port Royal before he could comment on it.

* * *

><p>"She isn't far from here," Voldemort mused as he stared out the window of their second storey room, one that he and Lucius had easily taken from its original tenants that night. The people were still alive, unfortunately, but Voldemort ensured they wouldn't wake for a good week or so. He realized that using magic at this point was a mistake. It was dangerous for the fabric of time, but he would fix it when the time was right. For now, he was mildly enjoying himself, despite the sheer anger of being ripped from his glorious final battle with Potter. A part of him was pleased to know that this had worked. They had traveled to a different time and place. Once he had the magical device back in his possession, he could only think of the wonderful things he might be able to do should he be able to effectively toy with time.<p>

"Her mind isn't trained like Potter's," he sighed, stepping away from the window and giving Malfoy a bit of an annoyed look. "She's with the port's governor and his daughter… Off to some … ceremony today. You can take her there."

"Yes, my lord," Malfoy replied wearily as he rubbed his eyes. "Could you tell the type of ceremony?"

"Something for the elite," Voldemort sneered, his eyes narrowing. "You should have no problems."

The man nodded soundlessly, and a thought struck Voldemort, "Though, you must be cautious. These are Muggles. You'll need a plausible story… Tell them the Mudblood is your fiancé who has run off. She'll loose her credibility, whatever story she's told them, and you can pluck her up and bring her back."

His servant seemed most repulsed at the idea of the Mudblood being his romantic interest, but when Voldemort cocked his head to the side, invisible eyebrows up, daring him to defy him, Lucius said nothing. Instead, he nodded his head again, compliant as ever, and began to rummage through the Muggle's clothing to see if there was anything he might be able to wear. They were roughly the same size, and the pair had chosen this particular Muggle couple – a pair of men – because of their similarity in clothing size. Yes, they could have altered things magically, but it was such an annoying hassle.

He watched Lucius move about the room, and he was pleased to have him here over the others. Sure, Bellatrix would have been more entertaining, but certainly more difficult to wrangle in. She would have been a little girl in a candy store, so many Muggles to choose from, a little Mudblood to call her own. Lucius was subservient, but he was also broken. This past year had been the end of any resistance. He was but a shell of a man, a small piece of what he once was. Oh, how the mighty fall. He enjoyed watching the Malfoy family tatter to ruin. They had, after all, failed him spectacularly over the years. He couldn't have thought of a better punishment.

"The governor is telling our girl that the ceremony is at the fort, near the water," Voldemort said suddenly, easily slipping into the girl's mind. She had no walls up. She was devilishly intelligent, this Mudblood, but she had no protective armour to keep him from her mind. "Get dressed… Don't forget the socks."

* * *

><p>Elizabeth was right. The ceremony seemed quite boring. The only thing Hermione actually enjoyed was watching Norrington go up in rank. Elizabeth seemed too preoccupied with the corset, which was actually the most horrible thing Hermione had ever worn, but she managed to keep her eye on James Norrington long enough to watch him accept his honour stoically. It was followed by applause and some gunfire off the top of the fort in which the ceremony was held, Rupert's Fort, apparently. Once that was over with, Hermione couldn't wait to get in the shade. While she was pleased to have her hair off her neck, she could feel the sun burning her poor, pale English skin terribly, and she was sure it would be pealing by the time she arrived back at the Swann homestead. When the parade of soldiers departed, and the elegant music of a string band took over, Elizabeth and Hermione quickly dashed for the shade.<p>

Everything was so open and lovely. Excellent stone masonry and a view of the sea… She was now living every historian _and_ architect's dream to be in a perfectly preserved stone fort. Well, not preserved. It needed to be in existence for longer, and then abandoned for her to call it preserved. Instead, it was just a fort. A fort to watch for enemy ships, and perhaps young lovers to sneak into and enjoy the sunset. Everything here was idyllic and beautiful. She decided that should she go forward in time and survive the war, she was going to bring Harry and Ron to Jamaica to celebrate their victory. It would really be the perfect ending to all that.

So far, no one had come round prying to find out Hermione's story. Apparently she looked enough like Elizabeth to potentially pass off as a cousin, and one older woman had actually called her "Miss Swann" when she was being offered a glass of what she assumed was champagne. When a cluster of women did start to form, their eyes giving her the once over, Elizabeth was quick to step in and explain Hermione was a friend of the family visiting from England. With their curiosity satiated, Elizabeth and Hermione were no longer the centre of attention as the women chatted, which gave them a chance to sneak off relatively unnoticed. Governor Swann had vanished sometime earlier, almost immediately after their arrived, to stand with Norrington and other government official for the ceremony. Elizabeth mused that they weren't going to see him again until it was time to go, and Hermione realized just how happy the other girl was to actually have some company that did not consist of older, nosy women. If she had been in this situation, she would have felt the same way.

After refilling their glasses with some chilled water, as Elizabeth told her there was a one drink maximum for young ladies at the fort, the pair strolled along the outer rim of the main area, stopping in an archway to listen to the band and continue to enjoy the shade. They watched the string band play for some time, a serene look on Hermione's face. It was the most relaxed, though physically uncomfortable, she had felt in a long time. The dress was too thick, her corset restricted breathing, and she was quite sure any exposed flesh was ripe and red at this point. However, her mind was momentarily at ease watching the musicians work their craft.

Unfortunately, the moment was spoiled when Hermione glanced back into the fort, spotting an overly familiar face moving angrily toward her. Her eyes widened, and she fumbled about for an excuse to make a run for it. Unable to find one, she quickly dumped her full glass of water behind her, and then chuckled weakly.

"Finished already," Hermione insisted, holding up the empty glass for Elizabeth to see. "I'm going to get some more… I'll be right back!"

"Oh, I… All right."

She didn't give her companion enough time to object, and before she could say another word, Hermione darted off into the crowd in the complete opposite direction of Lucius sodding Malfoy. He was right on her tail when she looked over her shoulder, but no one seemed to bat an eye. The social elite of every century _surely_ must recognize one of their own. She ducked around a corner and into a stairwell of the fort, only to stumble on her dress. Luckily, Hermione managed to catch herself on a black metal railing before she plummeted down the stone steps, but her fumble meant Lucius managed to find her seconds later. He grabbed hold of her arm and flung her to the other side of the wall, her back slamming painfully into the stone, and held her there with his forearm across her chest.

"Have you gone insane?" he hissed through gritted teeth, applying an unnecessary amount of pressure to her chest. "How _dare_ you flit about this place, conversing with Muggles, _ruining_ the laws of time travel-"

"I hadn't planned on it, but I had no choice," she argued breathlessly, her airways more constricted than ever. "What would you have done in my shoes?"

"I don't ever want to think about being in your shoes, girl," Lucius sneered. He released her, took hold of her arm again, and began to drag her down the steps. "We are getting out of here. _Now_. You will give the travel devices to the Dark Lord, and we will leave-"

"We can't leave," Hermione stressed as she struggled to keep up with him. "It broke!"

Lucius came to an abrupt halt, glaring at her when she stumbled into him, "_What_ broke?"

"When we landed, the glass on the Time Turner broke," Hermione explained, panting a little. "I tried the usual spells to fix it, even the unusual ones, but nothing worked."

He ground his teeth together, "Preposterous! Give it to me. We'll have the Dark Lord fix it-"

"I've found someone who can," she said quickly. "I'm not inept at magic, Mr. Malfoy. If anyone could mend it, it would be me. I've been the only one in the past ten years that has actually used it… I think it will require a Muggle remedy."

"Pretentious Mudblood cow," he hissed, something that she assumed was meant to be under his breath, but then she remembered who she was dealing with. Her cheeks inflamed at the insult, but she managed to maintain her composure.

"I've found someone who says he can try to fix it," she forced, her chest heaving now at the effort it took to argue with him. His eyes flickered down for only a moment, something she decided to pass off as an involuntary glance and she rolled her eyes. "He works with a blacksmith… I think they made glasswork back… now."

He pursed his lips, his hands on his hips in his ridiculous Muggle outfit, and paced back and forth for a moment, seemingly in thought, "We… If we can get it fixed before we return to the Dark Lord, it shouldn't be a problem."

"We?" Hermione scoffed, arching an eyebrow, "_We_ aren't doing anything. They've already seen me, but only a handful would have noticed you. Don't you think it's better if we keep it that way?"

Lucius stared down his nose at her, and for a moment it looked as though he was about to hit her. However, he released something that was a strange mix between a groan and a growl and then turned away from her, in thought again. If she wasn't wearing this bloody corset, she might have been able to make a run for it and lose him in the narrow, winding streets that she had stumbled through last night. However, she knew that ten paces and she'd be done, close to passing out from the weight of the dress, the heat of the sun, and the tightness of her corset.

"As much as I hate to agree with you," he ground out finally, "I think you're right."

There. He wasn't an entirely unreasonable man. For as long as Hermione had known him, or known of him through Draco, she had hated the man in front of her. However, as he hadn't assaulted her yet, or simply grabbed her by the hair and hauled her back to wherever he and Voldemort were hiding out, she figured that she _might_ be able to work with him. His master was another story; no one worked with him, just for him, and Hermione wasn't about to delude herself into thinking otherwise.

"Give me until tomorrow to get this fixed," Hermione pleaded, her voice some odd mixture of breathlessness and intensity. "I don't know how long it takes to make glass or… fix an hourglass, but I think we should have it by tomorrow."

"If you don't, you know there will be Hell to pay," Lucius told her, a blond eyebrow arched. "He'll get impatient with you-"

"You don't need to tell me about him," she said quickly. "Just let me handle this."

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**So I realize I said that our favourite pirate would be in this chapter. However, as it got longer and longer, I just wanted to post it. Therefore, our favourite and infamous Jack Sparrow will make his first appearance in the following chapter. Which I am really excited for! Hope you are too!**

**After reading it over, I also feel like the characters are **_**mildly**_** OOC. Not terribly yet, but I think they flit in and out. Be patient, I'm still trying to find my footing with all of this in a different fanfic world. **

**You guys were great at voting for this in my weekly poll! Keep it up, and it'll turn into a weekly feature for my updates! Much love to everyone! **


	4. Oh great, send him in

It only just occurred to Hermione that she had no idea where on Earth the blacksmith building was located in Port Royal. As she strolled away from Lucius, a confident strut in her step, her mind ran over all the possible locations. She couldn't recall seeing a sign anywhere, nor did Will specify where they might go for the afternoon. However, Port Royal wasn't exactly a big place. From what she gathered, the main part of town consisted of one street, so it had to be around there somewhere. Swann's manor wasn't far from this main street either, and because Will walked there, Hermione deduced his shop had to be somewhere in the vicinity. Wait. Was he the apprentice of the blacksmith, or the actual blacksmith? She wasn't particularly sure if that would make a difference, but it could mean that Will Turner might have a different shop location than the _actual_ blacksmith of Port Royal. Hmm. This could complicate things, but only marginally. All she needed was someone who could fix the glass on her device, and that was that. Will seemed like a nice enough man, but beggars couldn't be choosers in this sort of situation.

With her bag clutched tightly in her grasp, she hurried through the street, eyes traveling over the building signs in the hopes that she might find the blacksmith without much looking. There wasn't an abnormal amount of people milling about around her, but Hermione quickly noticed very few cast her more than one look when she walked by. Based on her appearance, she was bound to be passed off as some noblewoman from one of the more elite families. That certainly didn't bother her. In fact, she found people actually scuttled out of her way if they seemed too close to touching her. Apparently the class system was _more_ than alive and well in Port Royal. Hermione wanted to do nothing more than to pull those people back in to place, and tell them they had absolutely no reason to go out of their way to let her pass. Just because she was dressed better certainly didn't mean she was better than any of them! However, that was a fight for another day, and perhaps another time. Shaking her head slightly, she forced her attention back on finding the blacksmith shop. So far, most of the basic shops did have signs hanging out front. She had already passed an apothecary, butcher and seamstress, all of which had signs with very similar titles to the profession.

Nibbling on her lower lip, Hermione came to a full pause at what appeared to be an intersection, or some sort of town square, and gave each direction a full once over before deciding where to go. There were three options for her, and she carefully tried to peer down each small street or alley to decide which would be best. However, as she stood there, arms limp at her side, she suddenly heard a horrendous amount of noise coming from the direction of the fort, accompanied by a few screaming civilians. Although she had never actually heard a gunshot in reality, Hermione had seen enough Muggle movies at home with her father, quite the fan of World War II films, to know that something had happened involving weaponry. Now, she could turn back, hide, or carry on with her mission. Something prickled at the back of her head, a sensation Harry had described on numerous occasions in the past, and that was all she needed to remind herself not to lose focus. Surely, Will would be in his shop, and she could have this sorted by the end of the afternoon. She couldn't lose herself in the politics of this time period.

Determined, Hermione quickly hurried down an alley to her left, only then noticing that a set of dark clouds had taken over the previously clear sky. It was so startling that Hermione actually paused to look up, impressed with how quickly the weather had changed. There was a bit of a chill in the air, nothing in comparison to England, but something noticeably different from the morning. This was… odd. Hermione noticed several other people in the street stop to look up, but hastily duck to the side as a group of officers in red coats came marching along. One of them caught her eye, though she quickly looked away and tried to carry on. However, he soon caught up with her, and gently touched her arm.

"Miss, it's not safe for you at the moment," he explained. She studied him quickly, and realized he wasn't much older than her, despite the hideous white wig he was no doubt forced to wear. "There's a pirate loose in Port Royal. I suggest you return home as quickly as possible."

"Oh…" Hermione breathed, resisting the urge to scoff about a pirate – she had, after all, faced worse creatures in her short lifetime. "Thank you, sir. I'll run right home!"

"Would you like an escort?" he offered, glancing back slightly as his troupe carried on without him. "I would be more than happy-"

"No, no, don't worry," she insisted firmly, patting his arm. "I think you should concentrate on finding that… horrible… pirate."

She almost wanted to laugh. Although she knew pirates were the scallywags and criminals of this time period, they seemed incredibly insignificant in comparison to Voldemort, werewolves, Death Eaters, Snatchers, and Bellatrix Lestrange. She would take a pirate _any_ day over that psychotic woman.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely positive," Hermione reiterated, fluttering her eyelashes in what she assumed might be perceived as flirtatious. "I hope you catch him."

"Me too, Miss, me too."

They stared at one another for a moment, and Hermione suddenly felt ridiculously uncomfortable. Although the sun no longer bore down on her with the wrath it had this morning, the corset dug painfully into her rib cage, and breathing was still a struggle. However, she tried her best to remain composed and poised, as all the women from this period did (or so she assumed, anyway). Finally, the officer gave her something of an awkward bow, and then hurried off after his group. Hermione rolled her eyes a hint, and then quickly backed into a small alcove as she heard the unmistakable sound of yet another group of guards rumbling down the alley. Although she hadn't done anything wrong, she didn't want a repeat demonstration of chivalry from anyone this time around to slow her down again, especially if one was more forceful in escorting her 'home'.

Once they rushed by, Hermione poked her head out, took off her ridiculous hat and tossed it aside. Most women weren't wearing hats, and she felt that the officers probably picked her out because of her wardrobe. For now, she needed to blend in and get her task finished. Unfortunately, Hermione soon realized that the alley she had chosen was a bit of a dead end. None of the shops in sight looked anything like a blacksmith's, and she was forced to turn back around and pick another way to go from the main square. It wasn't an easy task, as the street was soon swarming with officers, but Hermione scooted out of view just before another group rushed passed her. Down a small flight of stairs, and suddenly she spotted something on a sign. It said 'Brown' on the bottom, but the two symbols above the name, a hammer and a pair of oddly shaped pliers, made Hermione think that she had finally found it. Will must have been the apprentice in this situation. Hopefully he knew what he was doing, because she didn't have time for folly.

It took some effort to mount the steep stairs, even though there were only two of them, but Hermione managed to heave her corseted self up and through the wooden door to the shop. When she stumbled inside, Hermione rightly assumed she was in the correct location. She spotted a roped up donkey attached to some monstrous contraption, straw and dirt floors, a mounted fireplace, and obscure weapons strewn across tables. Yes, this had to be what a blacksmith shop looked like.

"Will?" she called, hoping that she might get an answer. However, the dusty, dimly lit shop that stank of donkey remained silent. Cursing softly, Hermione stepped in further, cautiously listening for any sounds of life in the shadows. The further in she walked, the louder the faint sound of… snoring became. Arching an eyebrow, she poked her head around a corner, and spotted a rather aged, dreary, drunken looking man splayed out on a chair, mouth wide open, snoring obnoxiously. Hermione wrinkled her nose, and decided he was not going to be of any help at all.

Instead, she figured she might as well take things into her own hands. After all, glass welding couldn't be too difficult, could it? Hermione was the most intelligent witch in her year. If some blacksmith in the 18th century could do it, she certainly ought to be able to figure it out! She marched confidently toward the fire, which gave off tremendous amounts of heat, and then examined the tools set meticulously across the table beside it. Now, which one made glass? Actually, the real question should be how is glass made? She bit her lip, forehead creased in concentration. Maybe this would be a little more challenging than she anticipated. Part of her wondered if they might have a handy manual somewhere in the shop with all these instructions in it, but even to her that seemed like a stretch. Pursing her lips, she placed her hands on her hips in exasperation, and then continued to sort through the tools. She picked up a hat, one that had been resting on the side of the table on a hammer, and paused. This seemed… mildly out of place, at best. It was a brown leather hat, one that was quite wet. She couldn't recall Will wearing a hat, but then again, she hadn't exactly taken in his entire appearance earlier. Maybe he just hadn't worn it.

A hand suddenly clamped down on her arm, roughly, and Hermione whirled around in shock, eyes wide, only to have another hand cover her mouth to keep her from crying out. Her eyes met a pair of brown ones, encircled with what appeared to be black soot or charcoal. Tanned skin, black dreadlocks enwrapped in a red headband, beaded pieces hanging from his hair, a mustache, and a pair of beaded strands hanging from his chin… The only thing that gave Hermione any idea that _this_ man holding her was the pirate they were searching for was grey shackles around his wrists.

"You really shouldn't touch things that don't belong to you, love," he insisted, his voice soft, his breath faintly alcoholic scented. "Though, when you're dressed so pretty, we can sometimes make exceptions to that rule-"

Before he could finish, Hermione brought her knee up and slammed it as hard as she could into his groin. My, she was really getting a good handle on this! First Lucius, now this pirate attacker! It couldn't be her only form of defence though, because the ridiculous dress she was in had skirts too thick to do much damage. It must have been more of a shock than anything, because he released her, and she hastily dropped the hat on the ground and backed away.

"That was a little uncalled for," he managed, his accent vaguely Londoner in nature.

"I think you grabbing me out of nowhere was highly uncalled for," Hermione countered, her eyes narrowing at him. "You're that pirate, aren't you?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow," he beamed, giving something of a bow as he scooped up the hat she dropped. She watched as he dusted it off, "I promise I'm not all that bad."

"Bad enough to handcuffs," she mused, arching an eyebrow. "Do you know how to make glass?"

It was a long shot, but if she could find someone to do this for her, then she was going to take it. Lucius had surely informed Voldemort that she was trying to sort this out on her own, and they would be counting down the minutes until she returned. He was a time bomb, Voldemort. Any second he could explode, and possibly forget himself, and everyone on this island would suffer for it. Hermione the most, naturally, but everyone would feel his horrible wrath if he wasn't appeased soon. She knew Lucius wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible, and she wondered if that was because Voldemort was so angry for being back in time with the pair of them. Either way, she didn't want to find out, nor did she want to press his ire much longer.

"I make the best glass around," this Jack Sparrow insisted, holding up his chained hands for her to see, "but I can't do it with these darlings on me."

It would take half a second to break his chains with her wand, but she wasn't about to use magic in front of a Muggle, even in this dire situation. Clearing her throat, she took a small step toward him, "If I help you get them off, will you fix something for me?"

"Depends what it is," he told her, "and how fast we can get these off."

"It's an hourglass," she replied smoothly. "It broke, I need it fixed. I'll help you get them off if you do it immediately afterward."

He smirked, cocked his head to the side, and flashed a set of modestly white teeth with a hint of gold fillings, "Handcuffs first, and then we'll fix your trinket."

"Do I have your word?" she asked, staring down her nose at him. "This is very important to me."

"Clearly," he mused, picking up a hammer and holding it out to her. "Why else would a pretty young woman barrel into a shop and start poking around. I suspect foul play."

Her jaw fell open a little, and she almost expected him to question her motives. However, there was still this odd little twinkle in his eye, almost one of approval, for whatever mischievous business she might be up to. Hesitating for a brief moment, she finally took the hammer from him, the cold metal jarring against the obvious heat from the fire. The pirate moved quickly, clad in a pair of brown paints, a rather stereotypical loose white shirt, and a vest to tie everything in. She decided she liked his fashion the most out of everyone she had seen thus far, but said nothing. Instead, she sidled over to him as he spread his chained hands over a stool.

"Now, right in the centre, and keep hitting until we hear something start to give," he instructed, holding himself as far back as possible. Hermione brought the hammer up, adjusted her grip, and then slammed it back down against the chain. There was an awful amount of noise as she continued to hammer away, sometimes missing, until she finally stopped. This wasn't working, and it was a waste of time.

"Is there something better than this?" she demanded, tossing the tool back down on the table, breasts heaving from the exertion. "It's taking too long."

"Just thinking the same thing," he muttered, nodding toward the donkey. She frowned, not quite following his train of thought, and then looked up. The donkey was attached to some large contraption. She wasn't sure its exact function, but she noticed that it formed some sort of grinding traction along the ceiling, which eventually swung around. If Jack positioned himself correctly, the force of this device would snap the chain. She turned back to him, about to explain her plan, but he was already striding across the room with a seemingly burning hot sword. Hermione stumbled out of the way as the pirate briefly touched the donkey with it, sending the animal into a bit of a frenzy, but that frenzy managed to start the machine up. He swung his chain over and rode it out, eventually snapping it when it ran through the interlocking steel blocks.

"Well, now that that's done," Hermione said loudly. "Let's fix my hourglass. How long does it take to make glass?"

"Haven't the foggiest, love."

"I beg your pardon?" she snapped, "But you said-"

"Fudged the truth a bit there," he replied frankly. "I can break glass, not make it. They sound pretty close, I think."

"Liar!"

"No, _pirate_," he clarified. "Someone you seem so willing to trust…"

He took a few steps toward her, and her hand reached instinctively for her bag. Her wand was in there. A few stunning spells and an obliviate would do him just fine, wouldn't it? She felt quite stupid for putting her faith in a man she met for a grand total of a minute, perhaps less, for something as important as this.

"We pilfer, we pillage, and we plunder," he told her, his eyebrows flicking up. "We charm beautiful girls like yourself, and we have a fantastic time doing it. Besides, you didn't break the handcuffs, I did. Therefore, I wouldn't owe you a thing."

"I had the same idea!" Hermione insisted, flinching when the donkey bellowed angrily behind them, "I was just about to tell you-"

"But you didn't-"

"So?"

"That makes our agreement null and void," he countered with a shrug. "Doesn't really matter that I can't weld glass now, does it?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed at him as she fumed, and then turned back to the table of tools. Something in here ought to be of use for her original purpose, with or without this bastard's aid. However, the sudden opening of the shop's door seemed to send them both into a bit of a panic, and she felt herself suddenly tugged back behind a cart near the wall, out of view.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, pushing his hand off her wrist, frowning when she saw it left a bit of a dark smudge. He brought his finger to his lips, insisting she be quiet as a figure strolled into the shop. Peering around the edge of the cart, Hermione's eyes widened when she realized it was Will, and she shook her head, "I don't have a reason to hide."

"Other than breaking into the shop," he muttered challengingly, which earned him a glare.

Hermione popped up suddenly, "Will!"

He flinched away from the donkey, who he had just managed to calm, and seemed momentarily affronted by her presence.

"M-Miss Granger?" he stammered, "What are you doing… here?"

"Well," she started, stumbling out from behind the cart while Jack crouched a little lower, "I was on my way down to see if you were in, and I heard there was a, uh, pirate on the loose, so I ducked in and decided to wait. You gave me quite a fright when you came in… I thought it might be him!"

"I'm sorry," he told her, a little more composed. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, fine," she insisted, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. "Do you think we could work on my hourglass now? It's really important that I get it fixed now."

"Uh, right, yeah, sure," he babbled, running a hand through his hair and then slipping out of his brown jacket. "Let me get things ready for you. Do you have the hourglass here?"

"Of course," she beamed, leaning back to look behind the cart when Will turned his back to her. Jack was no longer nestled behind the wheel, and she shrugged. Perhaps he had taken the slight distraction she unwittingly gave him and made a run for it.

"Did you touch anything?"

Hermione brought her attention back to Will, and quickly strode across the room to the table, noting that the tools weren't as neat now as they had been when she came in, "I was just curious… I like hammers and… things."

He gave her a bit of a look, an eyebrow cocked up, but seemed to think nothing too deeply about it. However, when he turned to the side and spotted the hat she had been holding earlier, something suddenly seemed off. It must not have been his.

"Was there… someone else here?" he asked, reaching out to grab it, only to have his hand smacked with the dull side of a blade. Hermione gasped as Will nudged her back, putting himself between her and Jack, now armed with a sword. Hermione resisted the urge to throw her arms up in frustration. Could there actually be any more interruptions? Why didn't he just take the out she had given him?

She barely managed to force a look of shock and fear on her face as the two men engaged one another in what quickly escalated into a duel. However, it was considerably more boring than any wizarding duel could ever be, and Hermione quickly busied herself with rummaging around in Will's tools again in an attempt to find something she might be able to use. This whole venture seemed to be fruitless, and she had a mind to escape through the front door of the shop and find some other way of fixing her broken hourglass. Unfortunately, Jack had the same idea, and moments later, Will's sword slammed into the wooden door, barricading the three inside quite effectively.

Hermione opened her mouth, about to suggest they just let Jack Sparrow wander out on his own, pretend they hadn't seen him, and then get to work on her hourglass. However, before she could get anywhere with that, the two were engaged in a slightly more extravagant duel, which, for the most part, Hermione ignored. Instead, she threw herself into searching anything and everything that might be useful for her. Considering Will's attention was completely on the pirate, she wasn't about to be stopped by anyone. When she looked around every so often, she found the men at various locations in the room, mouthing off to one another as if their masculinity depended on it. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to search. Eventually, she found something that looked like a long pipe, and she vaguely recalled one had to blow glass when constructing it. Could this be a piece of it? A bead of sweat dripped off her chin suddenly, and she moved away from the fireplace, a little overwhelmed by the heat.

In fact, she felt a little overwhelmed by everything. The room was dusty, too hot, and her corset was still much too tight for comfort. At that moment, she suddenly started to feel a little woozy. Hermione blinked hard a few times, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite bring her world back into focus.

"No…" she sighed, placing a hand on her sweaty forehead. "Please don't do this now…"

And like the damsel in distress of any trashy pirate romance novel, Hermione felt everything start to fade out, sight, sound and touch. Without any warning, she collapsed in a graceless heap on the ground.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Sorry this took SO LONG to update. October sucked for me as far as writing went. I was in a show all month, with midterms for uni and everything else, I literally had no time to really give anything to writing. However, all that has come to an end, and I'll be back on schedule now! **

**If you want to see this updated, keep your eye out for my next poll and come round to vote for it! It always seems to do well, and I'm so happy everyone is enjoying it. It's much more popular than I expected, so sit tight, because I feel like this one will have a fairly frequent muse. **

**Now, I don't particularly want to fall into an old, old habit of mine and use too much film dialogue. I might for scenes that I feel need it, or places for Hermione etc. to have a say in, but I'd rather not. Hence the speedy jump into men bashing their swords together without the witty banter. You can watch the movie for that. It will follow the general plot, I think, but things will probably start to change once Hermione, Lucius and Voldemort begin to screw it all up. Stay tuned!**

**Thank you so much to the fabulous darlings who review! I love seeing them, and I creep ALL of your pages afterward for fun. Much love!**


	5. I got caught up watching

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Please read the memo at the end of the chapter! Please and thank you, darlings! **

* * *

><p>Ron grimaced as he crouched down in a corner, blood dribbling from his temple, hands covering his ears, and eyes pressed firmly shut as a Death Eater's spell caused all the windows in his corridor to explode. He managed to avoid getting cut by the falling shards by casting a quick shielding charm, and then darted out of the hall as quickly as he could manage. The battle for Hogwarts and all the innocent souls inside was in full swing at this point, and Ron had somehow managed to lose track of <em>both<em> Harry and Hermione. Mind you, Harry had left to go sort out the remaining horcrux, just like they decided, but before anything happened he and Hermione promised not to leave each other's site. They had, after all, managed to destroy one of few remaining horcruxes together, shared a fantastic, perfect first kiss, and then when they rejoin the fight, they lose each other. Not only was Ron concerned, he was upset at the thought that they may never have a moment together again should something happen in battle. It all sounded really grand, didn't it? _Being in battle…_ But really, Ron was scared out of his mind. All around him were enemies and friends locked in some horrible, unending fight that wouldn't come to a conclusion until Harry and Voldemort sorted themselves out. Until then, how many people would die?

He paused, almost overwhelmed by the thought of Hermione becoming some masked bastard's victim. Not on his watch! Though, she wasn't one to go down without a fight. She had proved to be just as capable, if not more so, than Harry and Ron over this past year. She stayed true when Ron faltered, and for that reason and more, he was hopelessly in love. A man in love followed through for his woman, and he wasn't going to stop until he located Hermione Jean Granger somewhere in this bloody castle. Gritting his teeth, he charged down another hallway, flinging a curse at the Death Eater he saw Dean Thomas struggling with, sharing his friend's grin when the man toppled over a staircase. Ron also made his way down a staircase, only to spot Ginny grappling with two Death Eaters from behind a statue. With a glare in his eyes, he hurled a stunning hex at one, knocking him off his feet by the sheer force of the conviction behind his spell. When your intentions were strong, the spell seemed more effective. It was a lesson that took Ron quite some time to learn. Ginny quickly finished off the other fellow, who seemed to give up at the sight of two potential enemies and vanished in a flurry down the hall.

"You all right?" he called as his lithe sister slipped out from behind the statue. She smiled up at the cement structure, who, much to Ron's surprise, winked, and then resumed its stoic expression.

"I'm okay, thanks," she returned as she hurried to his side. "You're bleeding!"

"It's not that bad," he muttered sheepishly, eyes still peeled for other attackers as his sister fretted over his head injury. "Look, have you seen Hermione anywhere?"

"I thought she was with you," Ginny replied, shaking her head with furrowed eyebrows. Ron sighed.

"I lost her about twenty minutes ago… " he groaned, running a hand through his messy red hair. "Any idea where she may have gone?"

"Any idea where _anyone_ may have gone?" she mused, eyebrows shooting up. "Everyone seems all over the place."

"Can't be helped, I guess," Ron mumbled. "I need to find her, Gin."

"Find who?"

The Weasley siblings glanced back as Dean Thomas hurried over, a rather nasty cut of his own evident on his cheek, "Thanks for having my back there, mate."

Ron nodded as his former housemate clapped him on the shoulder, "No problem. I've been trying to find Hermione for ages now-"

"Saw her going toward the headmaster's office," Dean said suddenly. Ron's eyes snapped up at him, and the Gryffindor nodded, "She seemed in a bit of a rush… Any idea what she was doing?"

"Nope," Ron said quickly, giving Ginny a peck on the cheek before rushing away from the two. "Thanks though! Be safe!"

He vaguely heard Ginny call his name again, but his mission had been set. Hermione probably went into Dumbledore's old office to save some of the artifacts he kept hidden in there. It actually made a lot of sense, now that he thought about it. She went on and on about the glorious book collection he had up there, and if Snape wasn't a complete bastard, he was sure they might still be there. However, if Dean knew where she was going, someone else might also be onto her. She could get so wrapped up in books that she was bound to miss someone walking in on her… Well, not this time.

* * *

><p>Hermione actually hadn't ever fainted before in her life without any magic, or torture, to prompt her to do so. It was a terrifying ordeal, one in which she knew what was happening, but couldn't control her body in time to stop it. When she came too, Jack Sparrow had been arrested, and a dust-covered Will Turner was fanning her face with his hand, her head in his lap. It was all very startling, mostly because she felt out of sorts. After all, she wasn't in her proper time period, her corset was no doubt bruising her ribs, and she had her head in the lap of some stranger. It was upsetting. Tears clung to her lengthy eyelashes as she was helped to her feet, and immediately a few officers rushed in to come to her aid. It was all too much, and Will offered to take Hermione back to the Swann residence so that she could collect herself somewhere private. It wasn't what she wanted, but all the unnecessary attention from people at the blacksmith shop also wasn't doing her any god, and she picked the least stressful alternative for now. To his credit, Will was an absolute gentleman. After he cleaned himself off a touch, he escorted her back and fended away curious officers who wanted to know more about the pirate. He then waited at a respectful distance, watching carefully until she was let into the Swann manor before waving farewell.<p>

She could see why Elizabeth had a bit of a soft spot for him, even if it was only a little. The longing glance back from this morning stuck out in Hermione's mind when she thought about the two of them, but she certainly wasn't going to go stick her nose in anything. It wasn't her business, and she couldn't interfere. Things needed to run their course here, with as little influence from Hermione Granger, circa 1998, as possible. When she was settled back indoors, she quickly learned that Elizabeth had also had an incident with the pirate, which her father deemed "Shocking!" and insisted that both remain at the manor until the pirate be dealt with by the new commodore. Although Hermione's ordeal hadn't exactly been all that bad, Elizabeth had apparently been assaulted by the man, which must have been a little more traumatizing than having a conversation with him. Hermione kept most of her interactions to herself, and professed that she couldn't recall much of what happened after she fainted, which pleased the governor but seemed to quietly disappoint Elizabeth. So, after the girls were given a bit of supper, and the sun had set, they were quickly ushered off to bed to "recover" from their ordeal.

For the most part, Hermione simply felt flustered. At this point in the evening, she was supposed to be at least with Malfoy and Voldemort sorting things out. The glass was meant to be fixed, hopefully with its magic completely intact, and they were supposed to get their situation under control. Instead, she was back with the Swann family and continuing to spoil the past. She couldn't exactly complain about her treatment, or anything. A bath had been drawn, with warm suds and delicious soups from South America, and Hermione was fed enough food to keep her full for days. Her slightly dusty dress was removed, and she finally breathed easy when the maids helped her out of her corset. She vowed to _never_ again wear anything that awful, and if she was stuck here longer, and resolved to put her foot down should an opportunity pop up again for her to endure that torture. Elizabeth seemed equally pleased to be out of the contraption, but apparently it was removed much earlier in the day by none other than Jack Sparrow. She definitely had a much more interesting experience than Hermione did.

After she dried off, rung her hair out, and slipped into the same oddly fitted nightgown from the night before, Hermione crawled into bed to take a few minutes to examine the broken Time Turner. It was an hourglass, with only one bulb intact. The sand particles, what she assumed contained all its magic, were thankfully stuck in the one good bulb, encased in a gold stand. It was lovely, but clearly dangerous. She examined the separate pendant that Voldemort had placed on the hourglass, the one that must control the location of the time travel and her forehead crinkled. There were several runes along the outside of the circular gold piece, but none of them were familiar to her. After rummaging around in her bag further, she managed to locate her wand and then summoned various books quietly, reading them by candlelight in her large, obscenely comfortable bed. Eventually, after the candle had burned almost completely down to its last lag, Hermione managed to find one symbol that had some vague, general relations to the symbol for Earth, though she was unsure if it was the element or the actual planet. With a frustrated sigh, she carefully tucked the books back in her bag, followed by her wand, and then set it gently on her bedside table. The candle finally extinguished itself as she settled into her feathery pillows, and minutes later she felt herself relaxing just enough to fall asleep.

A sudden clamour in the manor roused her sometime later, though it hardly felt like she slept at all. At first, she thought she was imagining the noise, and simply rolled over, a little grumpy to have woken up. However, moments later she heard several shrill screams echoing from the streets, and what sounded like gunfire, but only much more intense, from somewhere out in the harbor. She scrambled to her feet and rushed to her window, hair fluttering as she ran, and her eyes widened when she spotted a ship in the island's circular cove, firing its cannons in all directions. When she spotted small boats rowing away from it, she knew it was time to panic a little.

Dashing across the room, she grabbed her bag and slipped the strap over her shoulder, keeping it across her body in what she considered to be the position she was least likely to lose it in. She ignored her housecoat, and instead opted for a pair of slippers by her door. She needed to find Malfoy and Voldemort. It may have been sooner than she liked, but they all needed to make sure they stayed safe and alive during the night. Her best bet, as much as she hated to admit it, was to find safety with them. She stumbled out in the hall at roughly the same time as Elizabeth. Her companion opted for the dressing robe, clearly intent on keeping a little modesty, and Hermione rushed over to her.

"What's happening?" she demanded as they hurried toward the grand staircase.

"Pirates," Elizabeth explained, her voice breathy and a little higher than Hermione was used to. "They're headed here… We need to barricade the door!"

"Are you sure they're pirates?" Hermione demanded as they started down the staircase, a resounding knock at the front door.

"Quite sure," Elizabeth replied. "I bet they're here for that Sparrow pirate we saw today…"

She trailed off when they heard another knock, this time louder, as a wigged butler strolled casually toward it. Elizabeth gripped the railing of the stairwell, and cried for him to wait, but he had already opened the door. Seconds later, both girls shrieked as a shot rang out in the foyer, and the butler fell backward unceremoniously, a bullet hole in his head. Hermione tugged at Elizabeth's arm and they both raced back up the staircase as men filtered into the entrance hall. She ran as fast as she could, but when she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw Elizabeth being tugged into a room off the corridor. She wasn't sure if a maid or her father had come to her rescue, but Hermione realized she was now right in the line of sight of the pirates who barrelled up the stairs behind them.

It would have been nice if whoever saved Elizabeth had grabbed both of them, but she couldn't linger. Groaning, she hurried down the hall, only to realize that all the doors aside from her bedroom were locked. The voices of several men grew louder, and Hermione quickly ducked into a small, dark alcove in the wall, a spot for a suit of armour no doubt, and held her breath. She contemplated apparating for about half a second before dismissing it; that would only end in disaster.

Hermione's body stiffened as a shadow slowly grew on the ground in front of her, and she slowly looked up to meet eyes with the foulest looking man she had seen in a long time, Fenrir Greyback included. White and black teeth bared in a loopy smile, his hair seemed to be falling out from under a bandana, and his clothes were far dirtier than Jack's had been, but fairly similar, minus the white dress shirt. The stench emanating from him was so foul that Hermione actually felt herself gag a little when he exhaled. How could someone live like that?

He smirked at her and held up a rather lengthy silver knife, "What have we got here, pretty girlie?"

"_Confundus_," Hermione fired back, the one wandless spell she knew she was excellent at, and watched his eyes glaze over under the effects of the it. She took the momentarily lapse to slip out of her hiding spot and push him in, and then scuttled back down the hall as quietly as she could before slipping into her room. Somewhere nearby, she heard another young woman scream, but she couldn't differentiate between the maids and Elizabeth. Hopefully no one else met a similar fate as the poor butler.

When she was doubly sure she had everything she came with – clothes were, indeed, folded up inside her bag safely – Hermione decided now would be a good time to leave. She hurried out of the room, and back down the stairs again, only to come to a dead stop when she spotted two pirates wrestling with Elizabeth in the foyer. They appeared to be trying to drag her to the front door, but she was putting up something of a struggle.

"Eh," one of them snapped when he spotted Hermione. "What's this then?"

Her eyes widened as he raised a pistol at her, but Elizabeth quickly intervened, "Parley! Say it, Hermione! Say it now!"

"Parley," Hermione said quickly, flinching at the sharpness of her tone. She had no idea what the word meant, but when she saw the pirate's disgruntled look, she realized it must have meant she was safe. Her eyes widened as the slightly chubbier of the two, a man with thin, long hair, and yet none on the top of his head, skipped up the stairs and took hold of her too.

"To the captain with you then," he sneered, his teeth horrendous, just like the last fellow she was unlucky enough to encounter.

"Elizabeth," Hermione called, struggling to pull herself away from him as he hauled her down the staircase. "What did I just say?"

"You invoked the right of parley," the pirate snorted at her, pulling her hard enough to make her trip over the last stair, "and that means you got a date with the captain!"

"We cannot be harmed until we have spoken with their captain," Elizabeth explained softly when they were close enough. "It's our only chance."

Hermione winced as she was nearly carried out the front door. This couldn't be their only chance. This was suicide, at best. From the very limited reading she had done on Muggle pirates, they weren't particularly kind individuals, especially to women and prisoners. It certainly didn't help that, at the moment, Elizabeth and Hermione were both. She kept quiet as they were hauled through the streets, trying to think of a way they could talk their way out of this in one piece.

* * *

><p>This had gone too far. Voldemort glared at himself in the window pane's reflection, irritated at the useless servant he had with him in this ridiculous place. How were Muggles stupid enough not to have the proper defenses to fend off some sort of invasion by men in boats? He shook his head and turned back to Lucius, though the face that his blond servant met was different from his normal one. Voldemort opted to transfigure his features. Although he thought the physicality of his form, his true form, was absolutely perfect, Lucius had been rational enough to reason it would draw too much unwanted attention when they were in the street. Even he was hesitant to use much magic on these simpletons. Voldemort respected the time travel continuum, but he would forgo that respect if it came down to drastic measures. As men filtered in off the offensive ship in the harbor, both men watched from the second floor of their stolen apartment. He knew they needed to get the girl back. If something were to happen to her, and subsequently the Time Turner, they would all be stuck here until the end of their days, and his future would be in serious jeopardy.<p>

Lucius looked much worse off than he did in the morning, mostly because Voldemort sought to punish him for letting the girl wander off on her merry way to fix the device herself. He should have either escorted her, or brought her straight back here. Instead, he trusted some Mudblood cow to see to something that was so very important. He certainly suffered for his transgressions, as the split lip and bruised eye could attest to. Once he had sorted Malfoy out, he began changing his appearance so that he could blend better. He went with a former look, one he knew the best, from his years before he met his first end with Harry Potter. Sallow skin, bloodshot eyes, dark brown hair; he knew he was once what society considered handsome, but when he was finished, he loathed the face that stared back at him in the mirror. It was a weak, old, useless face that was powerless in comparison to his current appearance.

"She is in the manor on the hilltop?"

"F-From what I understand, my lord," Lucius explained gruffly, a tremble in his voice. Voldemort's lip twitched. He wanted to hex the man again. Such a pathetic excuse of a man, at that.

"We will retrieve her… now," Voldemort explained, smoothing his hands over the jacket Lucius had rummaged for him earlier. "We will get this fixed, and we will return to win my war. Perhaps I will return, but sometime later…"

"Of course, my lord."

"No magic."

"Yes, my lord."

It was more of a reminder for himself than an order to Lucius, and without another word, he stalked off toward the door to leave their commandeered flat for what Voldemort hoped was for good. His boots were uncomfortable after having been barefoot for so long. The pants fit differently than he would have liked. Hair felt unnecessary. He sighed.

They exited the building quickly, in time, and found themselves in a war similar to the one they left out in the streets of the port city. Women scrambled, windows exploded, and people shrieked in horror as savages ran amok. Voldemort wrinkled his nose. He wanted to curse them all into oblivion. He moved forward, careful to move around people as they ran. Malfoy grappled with what appeared to be a very poorly, horribly dressed man for a moment or two, but managed to wrestle him to the ground before Voldemort had to step in.

"Malfoy!"

The voice was so crisp and clear over the chaos that both men turned in its direction at the same time. The Mudblood girl seemed to have gotten herself into more trouble than she could handle, and Voldemort gritted his teeth when he surmised she had been taken captive by these invaders. She appeared to be in a bit of a panic, and Voldemort started toward her quickly, shoving a man out of the way when he stumbled into him by accident. However, moments later, something exploded in a nearby shop, and the blast was so powerful that both Lucius and Voldemort were knocked off their feet and to the ground. He landed painfully, glass bits cutting into his skin as they spewed away from the shop window. With his ears ringing, his vision a little blurry, and his balance thrown, he somehow just managed to look up and see the Mudblood disappear down a hill toward the harbor.

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><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**Hello all! Sorry for the short update, but if you want to give my profile a quick read, you'll understand why. I'm using November a month to poll all my readers for their top FOUR stories (and update **_**all**_** of them at least once), and as soon as December hits, those will be the only ones I update until they finish. After that, I will move onto others. **

**If you want to see this one updated regularly, please do be a favour and vote in the poll. I have a good muse for it, but I want to narrow down my writing so updates can be more frequent, and that'll happen when I have less to write. Damn over-active muse. **

**Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! **


	6. Baby, roll with us

Oh, why hadn't she just done something with her magic? Why on Earth hadn't she just apparated out of the manor to somewhere on the street, and hidden until this whole nightmare was over? Normally, Hermione wasn't one to second guess herself. Her decisions tended to be spot on, and when she looked back at her life, there were very few choices she would have gone back on in both the academic and social realms of her world. However, as she was hauled ceremoniously into a soaking wet, grungy rowboat by two rather smelly, awful pirates, Hermione decided it was finally time to second guess herself. Naturally, she still had the option of getting away with magic, but that would only open up a world of trouble. Firstly, Elizabeth would be left alone to fend for herself. Now, it wasn't as if Hermione owed her anything, but she would have felt horrible if she left the poor girl in this miserable situation. Secondly, disappearing and reappearing somewhere foreign in this time period could spell disaster if she was caught afterward. She wasn't sure how many practiced the witch hunts in the colonial Caribbean, but she was fairly sure they were still on the go in England at this point. The idea of being roasted in some town square was enough for her to keep her magic in check.

The two young women held hands as their pirate captors rowed them away from the port and toward an ominous, black ship lurking in the centre of the harbour. Hermione winced and placed her hands over her ears as the ship fired a lone cannon into the town, shattering what appeared to be the steeple of a church. The pirate in front of her cackled, awkwardly adjusting what appeared to be a false eye as he studied the two of them. The second man, the slightly more portly and balding of the two, rowed the group closer and closer to their apparent destination, and with each stroke, Hermione felt more apprehensive. What had happened to her rescuers? She was quite sure that Lucius had heard her cry for him as she was dragged through the disastrous streets of Port Royal, despite the noise. They had made eye contact. He saw her. Why hadn't they come for her? If she met her end at the hands of these pirates, the future wasn't going to be the same for any of them. Would she have even existed if she died in the past? Swallowing thickly, she glanced over her shoulder and scanned the now broken wooden docks for some sign of the duo she had traveled here with, but frowned when she saw no one that looked familiar.

Their small rowboat knocked lightly into the ship, which brought Hermione back to the situation at hand, and she gripped Elizabeth's hand as the slim pirate with the fake eye stood and grasped ahold of a ladder on the side of the ship. He then navigated the smaller craft up to its superior and hoisted himself up.

"Elizabeth," Hermione whispered as the pair of young women were prodded toward the ladder. They made eye contact for a moment, and her companion pursed her lips, appearing more determined than frightened.

"Just let me do all the talking," she whispered. "I will get us out of this mess."

Hermione said nothing in return, simply nodding as Elizabeth climbed up onto the ship. She followed closely, awkwardly gripping the wet railing as she clumsily climbed up it in her bare feet. Of all the times to not think of shoes, this was a little ridiculous. Even Elizabeth seemed to find a pair of slippers to wear before they set about to protect the manor. Not that it really mattered at this point. Her robe and dress were wet from the rowboat, and she was sure there were no luxuries aboard to dry her off. Grunting a little, Hermione tripped as she clambered over the final rung and onto the ship, annoyed that this silly long dress was so cumbersome. When she did manage to find her foot, she gazed up in slight terror at what seemed like fifty smelly, wet, dirty, grimy pirates of all shapes, sizes and colours, staring at her and Elizabeth on the deck of the ship as though they were alien life forms. Eyes wide, she scuttled across the slippery deck and stood beside Elizabeth, who grabbed hold of her wrist as soon as they made contact.

Suddenly, a burly, bare-chested pirate stepped forward, his voice deep and rumbling as he insisted that they were taking no prisoners. Hermione marveled at the piercing embedded in his dark skin, and mentally made a note not to tangle with this fellow. She might have been able to physically overpower the skinny pirate with the fake eye, but this one and, well, most of the men on board were far beyond her capabilities. Before anyone could get much in edgewise, Elizabeth stepped forward, boldly proclaiming her reasons for being on the ship. Hermione winced as the massive pirate backhanded her across the face, the sound of skin on skin contact sharp even amongst the bustle on deck. Her jaw dropped a little, and she hesitated before stepping forward and pulling Elizabeth back. Hopefully, with Hermione firmly at her side, she would resist the urge to do something stupid again. Another man seemed to come to their rescue, and Hermione warily studied the man the larger pirate referred to as "captain" with a cautious gaze. He was shorter than the first man, yes, but he walked with a presence that commanded the attention of the ship. Fairly well dressed, a scraggily beard, and a monkey on his shoulder, he seemed more the image of the pirates Hermione would have imagined from some sort of fiction book.

He spoke pleasantly enough to her, apologizing for the brute's behaviour, and Elizabeth was quick to make her demands noted; she wanted them to leave. Hermione watched the scene unfold silently, more than happy to keep her tongue at bay if it meant not getting slapped across the face. When the pirates laughed at her request, Elizabeth slipped away from her side and dangled something golden over the edge of the ship. It seemed to catch the attention of the men around her, and when she nearly dropped it, the crowd almost bolted forward after it. Elizabeth beamed triumphantly, and Hermione tried to join her at the edge of the ship, but she suddenly felt a wet hand coil around her wrist. She hastily looked back, eyes wide in alarm, only to find herself very close to a horrifically smelly man with wild hair and dangerous eyes, a grin revealing a nearly toothless mouth. She nearly gagged, the stench of rot almost too much to take, and managed to slip her slim wrist out of his grasp, holding it close to her body as she backed away. Elizabeth soon joined her, standing by her side as the captain demanded their names. Elizabeth lied and gave Will's last name instead of hers, perhaps as a measure to keep her noble background a secret. The captain's eyes drifted listlessly to Hermione as the pirates around her hissed about Elizabeth's false last name, as if Turner was an entertaining notion.

"Hermione," she breathed, feeling no need to give up any sort of last name, fake or not. She decided that the less she told to most people here, the better. He seemed to wait a moment, as though he expected something further, and then brought his attention back to Elizabeth. She licked her lips, heart pounding despite the fact the focus was no longer on her. The pair made a bargain; Elizabeth would give up her trinket, and this captain (Barbossa, if Hermione had heard Elizabeth correctly) would leave Port Royal immediately. It was a reasonable enough barter, and Elizabeth glanced at her. Something prickled inside her, as if they were missing something, but before she could say much else, her companion dropped the gold chain into the captain's awaiting hand. At a closer distance, Hermione noticed the pendant on the end looked something like a gold coin. Curious. She wasn't aware a single piece of money was held in such high regard. Barbossa examined it, and then slipped it into his small monkey's little hands. Hermione watched as the creature vanished along a low-hanging rope and into the smokey haze that floated around the ship.

With a nod to the burly pirate from before, the captain turned away from the pair of women and started toward what appeared to be the upper deck of the ship. Hermione stood frozen for a moment as the large pirate barked out orders to be on their way. Elizabeth seemed to be on a similar wavelength as her thought process, and they both glanced at each other when they realized they weren't going to be returned to shore. Oh, this was going from bad to absolutely terrible in seconds! How was she ever going to get home if she was a captive of a band of horrid smelling pirates? If she couldn't get home, then Malfoy and Voldemort couldn't either, and they would be stuck in this purgatory forever while their world carried on slowly without them.

She stood still as Elizabeth rushed off after the captain, protesting noisily as the crew went to work preparing the ship to leave. It seemed odd that no one had taken her anywhere, but it seemed like amidst the hustle and bustle, everyone had a job to do that didn't involve looking after a prisoner. Her eyes darted up to Elizabeth just in time and she watched her being hauled away by their initial captors toward a small door below the upper deck. Right on cue, someone grabbed the bag that hung around her hips. Thankfully the strap carried across her body, otherwise they would have been able to simply rip it from her.

"What's this then?" the pirate demanded, tugging the back toward him to get a better look, "I claim the girl's sac!"

"It's mine," Hermione snapped. Before she could stop herself, she lashed out with her fist as hard as she could, grimacing when it collided dead on with the pirate's nose. She backed away quickly when he released her, hands covering what she predicted might have been a broken nose.

"She goes down with the other," the massive pirate barked. Clearly he had authority on the ship, and as Port Royal started to disappear in the fog of the night, Hermione tried to weigh her options. Unfortunately, there weren't many, but she still was allotted the time to think about it as her previous assailant lunged at her. Without thinking, she squeaked out a _Confundus_ under her breath and darted around the man. She didn't dare use anything that would show any sort of permanent side effects, otherwise she would out herself. However, a confusion spell was just subtle enough to look as though Hermione was quick on her feet without the help of magic.

She used it twice more as another two tried to grab her. Although she wasn't exactly what you would call athletic, Hermione had been a jogger in her spare time on her summer vacations, and took pride in her ability to run at a fairly consistent, fast speed for lengthy distances. Unfortunately, there were just too many people on the ship, and as she knocked into pirate men here and there, her dress dampening from nervous sweat and the sea air. Finally, her bare foot caught on something sharp on the deck, and she fell a little, only just managing to catch herself as a sharp ache started on the ball of her foot. She tried to keep her distance from herself and the group of pirates after her, glancing over her shoulder to note they were almost upon her, when her body collided soundly with another. She tried to stumble away from him, only to cry out when a hand tangled deep in her hair and wrenched it back painfully. There was soft laughter around her as she was dragged across the deck of the ship and thrust over the side, her back arched over the thick wooden railing, hair dangling down toward the water. Breathing heavily, she tried to pry the fingers from her hair, which she now saw belonged to Barbossa, but stilled when he pulled her over the edge just enough to force her onto the tips of her toes.

"If you don't see our hospitality as something to be grateful for, I'm sure the sea will take you all the same," the man sneered at her, waves crashing against the side of the ship to emphasize his point.

"N-No," she stammered, the strain in her back and neck almost becoming unbearable. Her voice was nearly drowned out by the wind, and she raised the volume, hoping her argument seemed plausible, "He tried to take my bag… It's very rude to simply grab at a lady like that!"

He arched an eyebrow, and then hauled her back onto the deck, a hand still in her hair, "Which one grabbed you so rudely?"

Still breathing heavily, one hand in her hair, she pointed a shaky finger at the original pirate to go after her bag. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, then spat on the ground, "She punched me right in the face, Captain!"

"In my own defense!" she trilled, wincing as the captain tugged at her hair a little more. She glanced to the side and noticed his eyes cast downward, perhaps looking at her, perhaps lost in thought. Neither of which made her feel any more comfortable, and she cleared her throat, "I am not going to cause any problems, but my bag means a great deal to me. It has nothing of monetary value, only a sentimental one. Please don't take it away from me."

A silence settled over the crew as Barbossa seemed to contemplate her plea, and finally he released her hair. Pleased, she smoothed it over with one hand, the nerves on her scalp screaming from the rough treatment. She then clutched her bag to her body, on guard for another attempt take it from her. If someone did get a hold of it and reached into it, they would find an endless array of items, and once again she would be exposed as a practitioner of magic. For her own safety, if anything, it was paramount that she keep it to herself.

"Very well, you may keep your trinket," Barbossa barked. The crowd in front of her seemed mildly disappointed, and several at the back fanned out to continue with the tasks they had been doing before. Hermione breathed a soft sigh of relief, her grasp still firm on the small sac, only to squeak a little when the man grabbed hold of her upper arms and turned her around to face him quickly, his eyes narrowed on her, "And in exchange for my display of leniency, I'll get more information regarding your personal being."

"My…" Hermione trailed off, deciphering the slightly aged dialect quickly in her head. He wanted to know more about her. Elizabeth claimed to be a maid in the governor's house, and in order to make their being together seem plausible, Hermione decided that might as well be her lie too. However, before she could voice it, he shook her roughly.

"No chambermaid goes by the sweet name Hermione," he insisted, his breath far less foul than his men. "Might we have a noble lady in our midst?"

"I… No," Hermione answered quickly, not liking the look in his eye as he regarded her. "No, I'm a maid, just like Elizabeth."

"Oh, is that so?" he mused lightly, a smirk on his lips. "Such a shame. I was willing to give up my quarters for a _lady_ to sleep tonight. But if yer not, I suppose it's down with the other servant girl."

The last part came out as a bit of a sneer, and she wondered if he expected her to seem upset that she wouldn't be sleeping in some lavish dormitory. Quite the contrary, actually. She wouldn't take anywhere on this bloody ship over being in the same place as Elizabeth. A hand clamped down on her arm abruptly, making her jump, and moments later she was dragged away from the captain toward the same door she had seen Elizabeth disappear into. She cringed as her wounded foot knocked on bits and pieces sticking up from the floors below deck, but finally found some relief when she was thrust into a lightly lit, moderately clean room with her companion. The girl rushed to her side, catching her just as Hermione's knees gave way.

Without meaning to, a sob slipped through her lips, and she crumbled delicately to the floor with Elizabeth, her head buried in her hands. It was all too much; being stuck in this past life with two of her sworn enemies, and now trapped aboard a sticking pirate ship with no escape. Her foot throbbed painfully, and she swung it around to examine it. The cut was small, but the skin around it seemed irritated. Once Elizabeth was asleep, or distracted, Hermione intended to find the dittany in her bag and take care of it magically.

"Don't cry," Elizabeth whispered shakily. "We'll get out of this. We… We need to be smart."

Hermione nodded slightly as she stared ahead into nothingness. What were Ron and Harry up to at this very moment? Were they safe? Had war continued without her there? What if she died on this foul ship? Her lip wobbling, she resisted the urge to cry again. Instead, she wiped her tears away and met Elizabeth's eyes.

"We will get out of here," she agreed firmly, her gaze determined. "One way or another…"

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**I just wanted to thank everyone for voting for this story in the poll! It came in fourth place, and is therefore going to be one of four stories that will be updated from now on. **

**As always, thank you for the lovely reviews! Not to worry, we'll meet up again with our favourite boys (all of them) in the next chapter!**


	7. Boys, let's get to it

This was absurd. Why hadn't he predicted some sort of outburst from the Mudblood girl? After everything he had heard about her from the Malfoys, as their son was the only one who had any sort of connection with her, he should have assumed she had a little bit of fighting spirit in her. Therefore, when the chance presented itself, Voldemort knew he should have reacted faster. The Time Turner should have been snapped from her filthy hands and handled according to _his_ instinct, not hers. From that very first moment they disappeared from their world, Voldemort hadn't been in control, and it was eating away at him ravenously. While the situation was a fascinating one – he was genuinely interested in what this would do to their future, and if he could find any 18th century wizards – Voldemort knew it was a sticky one at best and that was how he ought to treat it. All he wanted to do was get home and win his damn war over Potter, and somehow the boy had managed to screw him over in the past too. He considered the girl a mere extension of Potter, and everything she did only brought more ire onto Potter. When he returned, he would kill the girl first in front of Potter, and then end him in the most painful way possible.

The plan made him grin as Lucius looked on anxiously. They stood side by side in the main square of the little port, watching in silence as the inhabitants tried to manage to aftermath of the invasion the previous night. He wasn't exactly sure what had knocked him out, but it was a powerful enough explosion to leave his ears ringing for several hours afterward. Aside from the mild annoyance, there were no other serious consequences of the pirate attack. He assumed they were pirates. _And_ there were serious consequences, naturally, but nothing to his physical self. Instead, the Mudblood had been taken while they were both unconscious. For all they knew, she could be dead by now and her possessions in the hands of filthy laggards who could barely comprehend their value.

Without realizing it, his gaze had hardened and he was staring at a spot in the distance with such intensity that a small child vaguely in his line of vision darted away. Yes, he was angry. Full of rage, in fact, but he knew that he had to be smart about this. So far, all of his decisions had been influenced by the Mudblood and Malfoy, both of whom were driving him to near insanity. The only real upside to all of this was that the Mudblood's little Muggle friend had been taken too. He caught sight of the girl just before the explosion the night before, and since then, the upper-crust of the port had been abuzz with concern. The Mudblood had somehow found someone important to latch onto, and because of that, people actually cared about finding the band of rogues who took them. This could be helpful, but he also wasn't about to simply sit around in this pathetic little Muggle town until the cavalry returned her home. No, he knew from now on, he needed to be directly involved in everything that happened.

Involved, yet not involved. Yes, that ought to be the way of it.

"My lord," Lucius said suddenly, perking up a little as he pointed at a brunette man striding through the square. "I've seen him with the girl… I thought I saw him chasing the men who took the Mudblood last night. Not for her, I'm sure, but-"

"The other one," Voldemort mused, eyes narrowing at the man. He tugged at his high collar absently, loathing the feel of the Muggle clothes against his transfigured body, and then clucked his tongue lazily, "Men in love do rash things. Come along, Lucius."

The ferocity of the man's face, the colour in his cheek, and the urgency in his stride… Voldemort and Lucius followed him at a good distance and finally leaned against a nearby shop window as their fellow stormed directly up to the port authorities. He had come to realize that the men in the red coats were some sort of law enforcement, and the one that the group huddled around had to be a leader of some kind. His jacket indicated a higher title. Their brunette man stormed right up to the group, possibly demanding some involvement. Voldemort was adept at reading lips, but they were just far enough away that it was a little too blurry to be sure of anything.

"My lord," Lucius whispered, trying to appear at ease, despite the way his voice betrayed him. "What are we going to do?"

"Patience," he sighed, eyebrows shooting up as the man was escorted away, only to turn around and slam an axe down onto the table. "This one… wants his girl. We need ours. He seems persistent."

"Reckless," Lucius noted weakly as a pair of guards dragged him away from the scene. "How do we even know what he wants?"

"I have come to trust my instinct over the years," Voldemort informed him coldly. "Do you doubt me?"

"I… of course not, my lord," he remarked quickly, his voice catching in his throat, "but we must be cautious here-"

"Oh, must we?" Voldemort mused, turning to give his servant a venomous look, "Did you learn that before or after you left the Mudblood to her own devices?"

He stammered out an incoherent response, and Voldemort rolled his eyes, "Stay here and watch the leader of that company. I will investigate what our heated friend plans to do about finding the girl, and we'll move from there."

"You want to split up?" the man inquired stupidly as Voldemort started to walk away, "Do you really think that's wise?"

His lip twitched irritably, but he could understand the man's point of view. Instead of berating him, he turned back and glanced at the large clock above the shop window, "If a plan is not formulated by six this evening, then we will meet back…there."

He pointed to a shadowy alley between the shop and its neighbour. Lucius nodded and looked back toward the group of red coats, all of whom were leaning over some table and arguing noisily about something on it. Without a second thought, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, the scratchy brown material irritating his skin, and strode off after the brunette man. He appeared young, perhaps in his early to mid-twenties. Athletic. Completely ignored the fact that his clothes were covered in soot and dirt. Voldemort observed him from a safe distance, and then frowned when he entered a large building very close to the coast. From the signage, as primitive as it was etched into the stone, he came to realize that the man had entered a prison.

He ground his teeth together irritably, and then glanced over his shoulder. No one seemed to pay him any attention as they went about their way. Children ran about. Women cleaned the debris from the destroyed buildings. Men appeared to be patching things up by hand. If only they were intelligent enough to use magic; things would have been fixed in an instant.

Shaking his head, he glanced back at the prison without a feeling of apprehension. It was seldom he was afraid, and by the confident manner that the brunette strode in with, he knew he wasn't going to have any trouble.

If any Muggle tried to hinder him, their death would be painful, of that he was sure.

* * *

><p>This was madness. Lucius wrung his hands together anxiously as he watched the port guards from a safe distance at the shop window. Twenty years ago, he would have followed the Dark Lord into Hell and back. Five years ago, he may have hesitated, but eventually he would have given in. However, this most recent year left a horrible feeling in the pit of his soul whenever the Dark Lord demanded something of him. Most of the time, it led to failure and punishment. In fact, he was mildly surprised he hadn't been tortured into insanity for letting the Granger girl do whatever she pleased, which led to her loss with the ruffians who attacked the port the previous night. Now, he was extremely concerned about splitting up from his master. Clearly all the decisions Lucius had made thus far were wrong, and he had almost zero confidence doing anything on his own without some sort of approval first.<p>

He sighed noisily, lost in thought over his most recent failures. There were many, both in this place and back home, and it was an exceptionally depressing experience. When he finally clicked back into reality, he spotted two of the red-coated guards stalking toward him from across the well-groomed square, weapons in hand. For a moment, he thought of running. If he could get out of their line of sight, he could apparate to the safety of his currently stolen room somewhere else in the port. However, if he did, he would appear guilty. Lucius Malfoy was remarkably talented at keeping law enforcement officials from suspecting him, so rather than running, he held his ground. As they approached, he kept something of a friendly expression on his face.

"Gentlemen," he greeted with a nod, hands up to appear harmless. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Commodore Norrington would like a word," the shorter of the two explained. "This way."

There didn't seem to be any refusing them, so Lucius simply nodded and followed the pair across the square. Commodore must have been what they labeled their head of command, because the closer they got, the more decorated the man's jacket was, and there was a much sterner look in his eye as he surveyed Lucius.

"I don't claim to know everyone on this island," the man greeted when he finally came to a halt, "but you are completely unfamiliar to me."

"Lucius Malfoy," he started, silently cursing himself for using his real name. It was habit. However, he did not reach out to shake his hand like some commoner. If he was going to be a Malfoy, he was going to hold up the aristocratic roots that they deserved, "I've only just arrived from England."

The man's dark eyebrows shot up, completely mismatched to his wig, "I wasn't aware we were receiving anyone from England this week."

"Perhaps we didn't rank high enough in importance," Lucius schmoozed with a slight shrug.

"We? You traveled with others?"

This was his opportunity. He couldn't be skulking around here without a reason, or he was bound to arouse some sort of suspicion. So, he cleared his throat and feigned the saddest expression he could muster with the Granger girl in his head, "My fiancée and I. She has always wanted to see…this place, and I brought her here as a trip before the wedding. She was kidnapped last night with another one of the young women from town-"

"I cannot recall if any other women were taken captive," Norrington remarked, "but Elizabeth Swann, the governor's daughter, was kidnapped. Some of my men said there was another young woman with her."

"Yes, my…" he trailed off. He knew her name. He had to know her name. Draco talked about her often enough, "Hermione. She befriended the Swann girl shortly after we arrived."

Norrington gave him a slightly unreadable look, his voice less friendly than it ought to be, "The governor did mention they had a house guest."

"Yes, yes, all that is correct," he said, trying to put some urgency in his voice. "I am immensely concerned for her safety. We came alone, and I have no one else here to help me find her. I had hoped the town would put some sort of search party together."

"The ocean is wide, Mr. Malfoy," Norrington mused as he gestured toward the table beside him, which Lucius finally noticed had a map on it. "We are doing what we can to predict the pirates' movements."

His voice softened suddenly, and he cleared his throat, "I understand and share your urgency to find them."

Lucius frowned for a moment, and then it clicked; the man loved the Swann girl. Whoever she was, she seemed to have stolen the hearts of several men in this little port village. Well, that could certainly work in their favour. He realized his approach with this man, no doubt the head of the law enforcement here, would be to play up some romantic angle with Granger. If they had something in common, perhaps all wouldn't be lost.

"I would like to volunteer myself to the search," Lucius said suddenly, "in any way I can."

"I will keep that in mind," Norrington informed him, "but unless you are a sailor, you have little use to me."

He blinked away the problem, and then nodded, "Of course. I wouldn't want to hinder any sort of progress. I should hope that you keep me informed if anything does come about, or you can use me in some way."

He turned away, knowing that his presence might start to annoy the man in charge if he had nothing useful to offer. No one protested to his leaving. Instead, they merely returned to their work. He could only hope that the Dark Lord was having more success with the man from earlier. Otherwise, they might truly be luckless in this ridiculous venture.

* * *

><p>Voldemort had found his way in. He had listened for the past ten minutes as two men, Jack Sparrow – a pirate behind bars – and the man from earlier – William Turner, as he had recently divulged – negotiated an uneasy truce to find where Turner's 'bonny lass' had been taken by the pirates. Unfortunately, he had yet to see the Sparrow fellow, but from the tone of his voice and the manner of his argument, Voldemort came to two possible conclusions; the man was an excellent, albeit strange, bargainer, or he was piss drunk out of his mind. Whatever the case may be, he somehow agreed to help Turner find Miss Swann, which meant they would find the Mudblood, so long as Turner sprung him from prison. Both of these men, while Muggles, would be useful to him, and he immediately knew what path he must take the moment he heard Turner destroy the metal prison bars noisily.<p>

He had been listening from a small stairwell in the prison, and only when he heard them speak of leaving did he finally step out to reveal himself. The man had fashioned his appearance as a slightly modified version of his younger self. What he wouldn't do for a good Polyjuice Potion right now; it was actually a little tiring transfiguring individual body parts each day when the spell wore off in his sleep. Regardless, he certainly did not look threatening, nor was he dressed as a guard. When he stepped forth, finding himself uncomfortably close to Turner, the young man drew his Muggle sword and held it up to his neck defensively.

"Easy, my friend," Voldemort purred, holding his hands up quickly, "I mean you no harm."

"Why were you listening, _friend_?" Turner spat as his companion, Sparrow (clad in a ridiculous outfit, complete with beads in his hair and goatee) clambered out of the prison cell, "What business are you here on?"

"We have a similar purpose, Mr. Turner," Voldemort explained calmly. "The woman I most desire was taken from me last night, as yours was. I want her back."

It wasn't a complete lie. He did desire the Mudblood at this very moment. He desired her to be back here with the Time Turner so they could return home, where he would wring her neck.

Turner seemed skeptical toward his confession, but he pressed on, "I want to help. I am a capable fighter, and you'll see there is more to me than meets the eye."

"What is your name?" Turner demanded, "I've never seen you here before."

"Tom," he replied. He believed that was satisfactory enough of an answer.

"Look, Tommy," Sparrow started as he gathered up some sort of weaponry from a nearby bench, "I haven't got it in me to keep more than one boy alive who has never faced real pirates before. Sorry, but three's a crowd."

"I agree," Turner chimed in. "Three is too many. We will find your girl too, and I will be sure that she returns to Port Royal safely."

"I'm coming with you," Voldemort insisted, "whether you want me to or not."

The two men exchanged a look, and before he could react, the butt end of Turner's sword slammed into his temple, knocking him to the ground.

He wasn't unconscious, but for a moment or so he couldn't react. Everything was numb, and his vision blurred between white and clarity. Footsteps echoed in his ears obnoxiously as the men rushed off, no doubt eager to start their mission as soon as possible. He wasn't particularly sure what Sparrow earned out of all this, or why he was in such a rush… but he couldn't even fathom a reason right now. All he felt, aside from pain, was unholy rage. Violent, spewing anger. However, instead of reacting as he normally would, Voldemort patiently calmed himself, and when he felt like his body was ready, he eased himself to his feet.

He gingerly touched his temple, wincing a tad when he felt something warm. He must have been bleeding, but it couldn't have been terrible. Taking a few calming breaths, he started up the staircase, clutching the railing tightly to keep from toppling over again. When he was finally out of the jail building, he spotted the tips of Sparrow's dreadlocks in the distance as the men ascended down a hill toward the beach. Looking further, he saw they were making their way to the docks. They were going to steal a ship.

With a smirk on his lips, he beckoned toward a small boy, waving him over quickly. The lad was hesitant, but he ordered him to come closer in a way that he perceived as commanding, yet calm. Finally, the boy sauntered over, and before he could say anything, he cast a wandless Imperius curse. It made the boy fall into a stupor, and he leaned close, whispering a message for Lucius in the lad's ear.

"He will be close to the main courtyard," he finished. "Long blonde hair tied back. If he does not respond to Lucius Malfoy, you will keep searching. Do you understand what you must do?"

"Yes."

"Good, now go."

In a matter of seconds the lad was off running, ignoring the woman who shouted for him to come back inside. She shot Voldemort an exasperated look, but he paid her no attention as he careful descended the hillside that he had seen his two new travel companions go only minutes earlier. He had to be careful. They were, no doubt, hiding from the law, and certainly wouldn't be out in the open.

Voldemort patrolled the docks careful, searching for some sign of them among the hustle and bustle of port life. There were many great ships on the dock, but most seemed to be occupied by an enormous amount of people. How they intended to take something from here was beyond him. Hopefully he was corrected and they hadn't gone elsewhere. Most of the time, his intuition on these things was remarkably spot on, and he pushed aside any kind of negative thoughts. He couldn't see them yet, but it was only a matter of time before they revealed themselves to him. Until then, he would wait patiently. It wouldn't take long.

Giving a final look out at sea, he turned around swiftly and stalked back down the dock, pausing only momentarily to give a strange look to a bucket in the water. It wasn't out of the ordinary to see debris floating about, but it was so very odd that it seemed to move on its own against the current. The oddity of it struck him more than anyone else around, and as he strolled passed an officer, he casually lifted a telescope-like object from his pocket, as it might come in handy. From there, he perched himself on the beach, a keen eye on the look-out for Sparrow and Turner.

* * *

><p>Lucius glanced up at the large clock nervously. Time was ticking by so quickly, and still there was no word from his master. He hoped nothing had happened to him, mostly because he knew it would somehow change the future. It was a relief that he no longer worried about the man's safety, mostly because it meant Lucius no longer connected with him as an individual, as his leader. Instead, his main concern was getting everyone home alive so that his future remained relatively untarnished.<p>

Thus far, Norrington and his men remained locked around that map, some arguing about which course to take. It seemed they were having even less luck than they were. Lucius sympathized, as he would have had no clue where to start searching in the vast ocean for one small ship.

Suddenly, a lad appeared at his side, almost out of nowhere. Lucius flinched, shocked at the appearance, and then shooed him away, "I haven't got any money for you."

"Lucius Malfoy?"

He froze, and after taking a better look at the small, ratty boy's face, his eyes in particular, he realized that something had been done to him. If he was to have a guess, he would assume that the lad was under some sort of curse, most likely the Imperius. It was a spell he had cast many times before, and he knew the effects it had on its victims.

"Yes?"

"The Dark Lord wishes for you to know he is going with Turner and Sparrow," the boy droned, his voice eerily monotone. "They are stealing a ship as we speak. Wait ten minutes, and then bring on the law. The Dark Lords insists you are also part of the chase."

"Why can't I go with him?" Lucius demanded, his eyes widening. Was the man insane? How could he run off with a bunch of Muggles in some vain hope that they would be better at finding the pirates than the Commodore? The boy gave him no answer, as he had clearly delivered his message. With the mission over, the boy's eyes started to clear a touch, and he turned around, departing almost as quickly as he arrived.

Bring the law? Why should he do that? Wouldn't they only hinder his escape with … Turner and Sparrow? Who the Devil were they? He looked up at the clock again, his lips in a tight line. Hopefully, the Dark Lord knew what he was doing. He couldn't afford to lose both of them and remain trapped in this world forever. All he wanted to do was get back to his Narcissa and end this war, one way or another. This dragged the agony onward most terribly.

Two minutes passed. Then four. Then another two. Finally, ten whole minutes had passed, and it took everything in him not to race across the courtyard back to Norrington. He retained most of his dignity as he went, his head held high, his pace even.

"Mr. Malfoy," the Commodore greeted, not bothering to look up from his map as he scribbled something down. "Is there something else we can do for you?"

"Sparrow and Turner are stealing a ship in the bay," Lucius informed him. "I've just been told."

The man looked up quickly, "What?"

"They are stealing a ship, no doubt off on the same errand as you," Lucius clarified, urgency in his voice. "We must follow!"

"I…" Norrington trailed off, his men turning to him expectantly. "Come, we will investigate the docks ourselves. It seems unrealistic… Sparrow was locked securely behind bars. Who did you hear this from?"

"A reliable source, I assure you," Lucius informed the man as they departed. He finally realized what the Dark Lord had done. He had given them an opportunity to earn the Commodore's trust. If he was successful, perhaps he could become more involved in the plans to find the pirates who took Granger. There might be some hope after all.

* * *

><p>Ron skidded along a third floor hallway, narrowly avoiding a curse flung from somewhere in the darkness behind him.<p>

"Hermione?" he shouted, hoping that she might hear him before she reached the headmaster's office, "Hermione, where are you?"

Silence answered.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**So I wanted to do a little more with this, but I've reached a point where my creativity it sort of sapped for the day. I also wanted to post today, since it's been FOREVER since this has been updated. **

**Happy New Year to you all, by the way! **

**I'll post what I wanted to do sometime this week as a sort of… second part/ending of this chapter. It'll be shorter, but it'll be out sometime when I'm a little more functional. **

**YAY WILL for knocking Voldemort out. Kind of a jerk move, but who needs extra baggage? If your last name isn't Turner, Jack doesn't give a fuck, really. –shifty look- MORE TO COME SOON! Thanks to everyone for adding this story to a list and the reviews are always appreciated! **


	8. Shank in my sock

Voldemort squinted his eyes as the sun beat down on the water. This certainly wasn't weather he liked or felt accustomed to, and sooner he was out of here, the better. With a sigh, he brought his stolen telescope up to his eye and scanned the water. It had been about twenty minutes – which felt like hours – since his new comrades disappeared into the water and they hadn't resurfaced yet. Half of him wondered if he might have been following wizards all this time and they had apparated out of sight. It wasn't like he was in a rush, but he certainly didn't want to lose them before their little rescue mission started. Luckily, he hadn't been getting much attention from the locals. He had rolled his pants up at this point, shoes discarded as sweat rolled down his face. Maybe he should have found somewhere to sit in the shade…

Cracking his neck noisily, he released an irritated sigh and continued to scan the ocean, arbitrarily pausing at random ships in the dock. It seemed like the most boring way to travel. The ships must have been so incredibly slow, and he would go insane if it was his only mode of transportation. While Muggles in his era were getting better with their mechanical modes of travel, but they were still so far behind that it was embarrassing. Although, there was a rather large ship in the distance that did look quite impressive, and he wondered if there was anything special about it. Squinting again, he studied the massive structure from his spot on the beach. However, as he ran his telescope up the back of the ship, he spotted just what he was looking for; Mr. William Turner. He was scrambling up behind Sparrow, and moments later they disappeared over the rail and onto the deck of the monstrosity.

An eyebrow quirked as he set his telescope into his coat pocket, and then stood up, slipping into his shoes, pants still rolled up. He had found his place at last. How they managed to get out to the boat without him seeing them on the water first was impressive, but his astonishment only lasted a few seconds, at best. A grin crossed his lips, and he closed his eyes, imaging the dock where he had last seen Will Turner. Moments later, the usual feel of magical transport took over without a care for who saw him disappear. When he reappeared, he was on the deck of the huge ship, giant white sails looming over him as he stared at some large wooden wheel. The top part of the deck was empty, but as he strolled closer to the edge, his hands resting on an ornate wooden bannister. Below, Sparrow and Turner hurried about, Sparrow shouting orders regarding ropes and whatnot. Head cocked to the side, he strolled down the nearby steps.

From the side of the ship, he heard something familiar; angry shouting. Leaning over the side, he smirked as he spotted several law officials stuck in a little row boat. Clearly the men had taken care of the owners of the boat, which meant they were clever enough to suit his purposes. Smoothing a hand down his shirt, he strolled toward the duo, though neither seemed to even notice his presence.

"Throw it up… Get it higher," Turner shouted as Sparrow maneuvered a comically thick rope over his head, motioning up to the sails. He wasn't sure what their aim was, but it seemed hopeless. There wasn't any need for magic yet, but if Lucius did his job and brought the law to the docks, he might have to speed things along.

"Gentlemen."

Both men came to an abrupt halt, and Voldemort took a step back as Turner lunged at him with his sword.

"What are you doing here?" the young man demanded, eyes wide, "How did you get here?"

Sparrow seemed less concerned with his presence, and instead took a run toward the side of the boat, peering over to survey the shore.

"I told you why I wanted to help find our _special_ ladies," Voldemort sighed. "There _is_ more to me than meets the eye… I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not."

The younger man glanced at his partner, and Sparrow shrugged, "Can you do anything in a ship?"

"No."

"Can you use a sword?"

"No."

"Well, what can you do?" Turner demanded, his eyebrows shooting up, "You seem useless."

"Only a little more useless than you, mate," Sparrow snorted, clapping Voldemort on the shoulder. He wrinkled his nose a little at the contact, but forced something of a grin. "Welcome aboard. We'll be jumping ship soon."

"Jumping ship?" Voldemort repeated, eying Turner with a smug look as the two men slowly returned to what they had been doing before.

"We can't go far in this ship," Turner remarked, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's more of a flagship. We want the Interceptor."

"And the Commodore and his boys are going to deliver her to us," Sparrow chuckled as he gazed down a golden-brown telescope of his own. Voldemort pulled out his and stared down the small barrel, a smirk on his lips when he spotted a much smaller ship approaching.

"She's the fastest ship in the fleet," Turner explained, "but if they gun us down, we're done. Any other plans, Sparrow?"

"I always like to improvise," the older man remarked, and Voldemort glanced over his shoulder. Frowning, he saw the dread-locked fellow open a wooden barrel and slip inside, beckoning for the others to follow. This was a little ridiculous. Groaning, he followed Turner to the two barrels next to Sparrow's, and then ripped the lid off of one. There was a bit of a damp, musty smell, but otherwise it seemed empty and fairly dry. It took a bit of maneuvering to get himself situated inside. However, once he was in, he watched Turner place the lid lightly on top, and then with a bit of rummaging, he assumed the man was in the barrel beside him.

It certainly didn't take long for the desired ship to pull up alongside this monstrosity, and Voldemort watched out of a crack as men came pouring onto the deck all around them. Orders were barked, and the new arrivals were to search every inch of the ship until they found the pirates. Was that what Sparrow and Turner were? He had only ever heard of pirates once in his Muggle days, and it wasn't a term he was particularly familiar with at the moment. There was suddenly a slight tap on his left side, and he assumed it was time to move. As gingerly as he could, he pushed his lid up with the tips of his fingers and rose, meeting Jack at the same time as they slipped out. He kicked Turner's barrel as he passed it, and the young man soon joined them just behind the massive round barrels, crouched down and studying the abandoned Interceptor beside them.

"Across the planks," Will insisted, pointing to two fairly unsteady little planks of wood that connected the two ships together. "Hurry!"

Well, if the Muggle soldiers had somehow crossed it without tumbling into the ocean, Voldemort was sure he was more than capable of doing the same. He watched Jack navigate across first, followed by his younger counterpart, and when they made it safely to the other ship, Voldemort had a fleeting thought. What if they pushed the bridge off and forced him to remain where he was? He glared a little, and then hastily leapt on the flimsy wooden plank, scrambling across as the material bounced a little below his feet. Once he was finally on the other side, he almost fell onto the new deck, slightly off-balance with the movement of the ocean and the fact that the bridge wasn't at all steady. He should have just apparated across and saved himself the trouble of looking like an incompetent fool.

Thankfully, it seemed his companions had moved on faster than he did, and were already removing all ties between the two vessels. Voldemort hurried up the steps near the rear of the ship, a hand on the railing and a smirk on his lips when he spotted Lucius standing near the man he assumed was in charge… the Commodore. They had both infiltrated successfully, and Voldemort felt rather successful once more.

Soon, Jack joined him and took to the wheel, wind in the bright white sails as they started to drift away from the massive ship. Suddenly, an alarm was raised, and men scrambled to get back to the Interceptor, but they were far too late. Many attempted to swing across, but they all missed spectacularly and landed in the water. He ducked out of the way as gunfire rained on them, joining Turner in a crouched position as Sparrow taunted the law enforcement from safety.

* * *

><p>Hermione was miserable. Although the dittany had closed her open foot wound, the area was still fairly tender. So far, she and Elizabeth spent most of the day hiding out in a small room below deck, taking turns looking out the small window to try to gauge where they were being taken. Everything she had seen thus far was open sea, and not a spot of land in sight. Thankfully, Elizabeth hadn't spent the entire time moaning about their situation, which was what Hermione had predicted when they first arrived. Instead, she seemed to find her courage and spoke about escape attempts constantly whenever she paced the length of their small holding cell. It must have been a storage room of time kind, because Hermione had found herself seated on top of some old barrels for quite some time now, eyeing the other wooden boxes scattered around the room with only mild interest.<p>

Shockingly, it wasn't the situation that made her feel awful, but rather the continuous rocking motion of the ship. Both she and Elizabeth had experienced some mild nausea already, and Hermione prayed that she wouldn't have to vomit somewhere in that tiny room. It wasn't as if she would have anything to upchuck, but there was still that concern. Elizabeth had been taken about a half hour ago to have dinner with the captain, after she was given the option of dining with him or with the crew naked. It was obviously obscenely upsetting to her to choose between the two, and when their captors left her to change into a deep maroon dress, she seemed visibly upset. However, as Hermione helped her into the garment and laced up the bodice, she tried to sound as encouraging as possible. Hopefully, when Hermione faced her own dinner date with the captain (sometime later, apparently), Elizabeth would be able to return the favour.

The only thing that wasn't upsetting is that no one had tried to take her bag yet. It seemed that what the captain had ordered stood firm, and as she clutched it to her body, all she could do was think about keeping it safe. Oh, and getting away from savage pirates. If only she had done more reading in her youth about the pirate age. History was always interesting, but there was just so much globally to devour, and when Hermione learned that she was a witch, all of her focus went into that. There wasn't much room in her head for fanciful pirates in the Caribbean, unfortunately. From what she did know, mostly from popular culture, was that they were lawbreakers and villains, and usually did whatever they wanted if that meant attaining their prize in the end. That notion in itself was worrying. It was terrifying to be with people who had no sense of boundaries, and it seemed the only real authority came from the good captain.

She hadn't been given a dress when two scraggily pirates appeared to dress Elizabeth. Perhaps they were going to share it once he was finished with her friend? Hermione couldn't help but worry about the girl; it was only a dinner, but who knows what else Barbossa had in mind for them. Curled up on her barrel, she tried to listen for any footsteps indicating Elizabeth's return, but the roar of the sea and the howl of the wind made it difficult to hear much of anything outside her room. The air in it grew stiff the longer she sat there, and eventually she slid off and began to move around the room, hands clutching the shoulder strap of her bag.

Suddenly, there were screams. Awful, horrible, painful screams from the upper-deck, and Hermione knew they couldn't belong to anyone but Elizabeth. She raced to the door in a panic, rattling the knob heatedly as the screaming continued. Locked in. Licking her lips, Hermione took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, focusing solely on her magical ability. Wandless magic wasn't for everyone, and all of her spellwork with it was remarkably basic. However, an unlocking charm was simple enough, and if she needed something further, she could only pray her years of talent would back her up in the very near future.

"_Alohomora_," she murmured, hands pressed against the door. Within a second she felt the lock click open, and she slipped through the doorway and out into a small hall. It was an intermediary level between the lower deck and the upper one, and Hermione easily found the staircase leading up. All she had to do was follow the sound of laughter and screaming. She pushed through a second doorway and stumbled out onto the main deck, calling for Elizabeth, only to be met with a sight of pure horror.

Skeletons. All the men she had seen earlier that evening were skeletal, with their clothes hanging in bits and pieces, hair scraggly and almost non-existent. Barbossa was nearest to her, and it looked as though some dark liquid was dripping off his exposed rib cage, his once intact coat eaten down to rags. No wonder Elizabeth sounded as though someone was killing her. What kind of creatures were they?

She backed away, terrified, as the captain lunged toward her.

"You're a bit early for dinner, milady," he sneered, bony fingers reaching out for her, "but I suppose you can eat what Miss Turner did not!"

To her credit, she only squeaked when bone wrapped around her bare arm, but she then did something she swore she wouldn't. Her hands flew up instinctively, and she cried, "_Reducto_!"

The moment the spell hit him, Barbossa was tossed back, making the skeletal men around them stop in awe. Several reached for their swords, and Hermione clamped a hand down over her mouth, eyes wide. She hadn't meant to do it. Her brain panicked and reacted before she could process the situation, and she handled herself as she might have done had she been cornered by a Death Eater.

Although there was no visible skin on Barbossa's face to signify any kind of emotion, she was sure he was shocked at the sudden development. His exposed eyeballs whizzed around, almost a bit like Moody's, and he ran his hands over his frame to check for damage. None had been done, and she was sure that her magic wasn't strong enough without a wand to actually inflict much harm. It must have been the shock of it all that sent him away from her. Now, she wasn't exactly sure where Elizabeth had gone, but clearly she had overstepped her boundaries on the rescue mission.

Before anyone could say anything, she hurried back through the door and tried to barricade herself back in her room. She would have tried hiding deeper in the ship, but she could hear the obnoxious chatter of men below, and that seemed more dangerous than enticing. With the sound of boots slamming down the stairs behind her, she threw herself back into her old holding room and rammed the door shut behind her. However, before she could lock it, she could almost feel it being pushed open from the other side, and she hastily darted across the room. Moments later, Barbossa flung the door open, and much to her shock, he was back to his normal self, skin and all.

"Reducto…" he mused as he shut the door behind him, Hermione cowering near a barrel, "That's Latin based, isn't it?"

"I…I suppose," she stammered, unprepared for such a collected, though serious, appearance of the captain.

"I think we can be rid of this _maid_ nonsense now," he snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously as he closed in on her. "Who are you?"

"Just Hermione," she insisted, "I promise."

"I don't take kindly to outright liars," Barbossa told her. Much to her surprise, he pulled out a pistol and brought it up square with her chest, "Don't make me ask you again."

"All right, I'm not a maid!" Hermione cried, her voice shaking horribly. She really was a terrible liar, and it wasn't much of a surprise that he saw through her, "But I am Hermione… just Hermione. I'm not some rich woman or royalty-"

"Don't flatter yourself," he intoned lightly, giving her a once over. "I never suspected royalty. You are something though…"

"So are you, apparently," she forced out, as much as it almost killed her to do so. She wasn't a confrontational person when she felt like she had a weak backing to her argument. However, if she could talk her way out of this, things might be forgotten. Perhaps she could even persuade him that she had just pushed him and he fell…

"As I was trying to explain to your traveling companion, me men and I been cursed by a sea goddess for stealing her treasure," Barbossa explained, taking a step toward her and placing his hand in front of the window. Her jaw dropped a little as his skin shriveled away back down to bone, "Neither living nor dead, we are cursed into this by moonlight until we return all of her treasure and offer a blood sacrifice… Your little friend was lucky enough to have the final piece of the treasure."

Hermione stared at his deformed hand for a moment, digesting everything. A curse did seem plausible, and that meant there was more magic in this world than she was aware of. Yes, there were other creatures out there capable of some kind of magic; look at house elves! However, she had never heard of a goddess doing this except in legends, and in order to confirm it, she would have really needed to do some more reading. However, seeing as that wasn't an option, Hermione decided she was going to believe him until proven otherwise.

"Is that where we're going?" she asked quietly, "To return her treasure?"

"You're more accepting than your friend," he mused. "She doesn't believe in ghost stories."

"I've seen more ghosts than I care to," Hermione muttered. "I believe you. How long have you been like this?"

"Ten years in purgatory."

"That's… awful," Hermione said, genuinely feeling distraught for his plight despite their current situation. "I'm sorry."

He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing, "You know my tale… Now give me yours."

She swallowed thickly. There was no way of getting out of this. Hermione had done something she couldn't undo with a memory erasing spell even if she tried. He had lowered his pistol and expressed some knowledge of magic, so if she could word things correctly, she might be able to get away without breaking any rules of the magical community.

"I was born like this," she said finally, fiddling with the strap of her bag. "I come from a community of people who…who do this-"

"What's _this_?"

She shifted uncomfortably, "I suppose it's magic. We go to school for it so that we can control it. I shouldn't have used it on you. I panicked when you touched me… I didn't mean to."

For a long time he remained silent. Hermione watched him as he paced back and forth across the room, nervously picking at her nails as she waited some sort of response to what she had said. Would he even believe her? She had told most of the truth, as it only seemed right to stop going around in circles with lies. However, she also knew that magic was dangerous in this time period, and if she wasn't careful, she might be hoisted on a pyre before the night was out.

"So you're a witch?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that-"

"But you can do magic."

"Well, yes-"

"All kinds of magic."

"No, not much," Hermione lied, forgoing the previous notion of truth-telling when she saw something of a dangerous glint in the captain's eye. "Just really simple things… Pick locks, confuse people, get someone off me… It's not much more."

"You're a terrible liar," he snorted, "but I think I might have found you another purpose aboard my ship."

"I had a purpose?" she blurted, her eyes widening. His eyes traveled over her body once again, rather quickly this time, and Hermione felt her cheeks darken. Oh.

"I suppose not for now, not in purgatory," Barbossa insisted. "I know you've got more magic in you, and you'll prove your worth against our foes at sea with it, you'll see."

"I really, really don't-"

"Stop lying to me," he snapped forcefully, making her shut her lips together firmly. "You'll show me everything you can do tomorrow, or I'll hand you over to my men for a good witch burning. We don't get many down here…"

"That wouldn't suit my second purpose," Hermione reasoned, hoping if his true intentions were to keep her around for something a little more carnal, she might be able to manipulate just a little.

"That purpose can be filled by anyone," he remarked flippantly. "Now come… You can share my chambers with Miss Turner for the night. It's the only spot on the ship with a real bed."

He reached out for her and she flinched away, not wanting any sort of physical contact with the man. However, he bore down on her, grasping her arm firmly as he had done earlier. There was a hunger in his eyes, one the spoke of many things, but most of all Hermione assumed he wanted her to attack him again with wandless magic. She wouldn't. There were a number of spells she could have done, but she wouldn't do it just to entertain his desire to see magic. She tried valiantly to push him away, stomped on his feet, and even thought about potentially biting him, but nothing seemed to have any effect.

Finally, he gave her a rough shove toward the door, and she stumbled a little, clutching at her bag as he came up behind her. Before he could touch her again, Hermione shuffled forward and opened the door, letting herself out as he followed. Once they had returned to the upper deck, bony fingers wrapped around her bare arm again, and she resisted the urge to shrink away as he dragged her a little toward a set of double doors. He then stepped to the side and opened on, bowing low as she scuffled in.

It slammed behind her with a depressing sense of finality.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**Right. So this took AGES to update. I wasn't particularly happy with where I left off in the last chapter, and that almost put me off from wanting to work on it. It's unfortunate, but that tends to be how my muse works. Thankfully we're back on track with the Hermione bit, and I'm glad to have got that written. I'm on a week's break now, so I'm hoping to get another chapter done before the end of the week, but we'll see – no promises. **

**Dialogue in this series is a really big issue for me. I'm new to the PotC genre, but I absolutely refuse to write Barbossa's dialect phonetically. If anyone reads my Batman stories, I'm the same for the Joker. Just because there's an accent doesn't mean I want to write it like that. I'm sure I've said it before, but it really irks me as I'm writing. Ah well. I'll get a groove for it. Watching the movies, I noticed Barbossa does speak rather eloquently, so just picture his rough and tumble way of speaking added on there. **

**Much love to all the fans of this series. I'm sorry for letting you down with the length between updates – exams and school tend to get the better of me, and I'm trying to get back on track!**


	9. Should we just lay it down?

Voldemort wasn't sure about how he felt about sea travel. In his youth, he had used some kinds of Muggle transport when he wanted to avoid unnecessary attention from the Ministry. Trains were smooth, yes, but they were always so cramped and hot. Only once had he taken a Muggle taxi while in London, and that was an atrocious nightmare. His driver barely understood where he wanted to go, and it had to be the slowest way to travel when he compared it to almost every kind of magical transport out there, Floo Network included. However, this way of moving was so… odd. They could travel quickly with the wind, but when the elements died, the ship drifted along with agonizing slowness.

Therefore, as he stood at the helm of the ship, feeling a great sense of power as his vessel pierced through the ocean's strong waves, he decided he had a neutral opinion on travel by boat. It would have been relaxing if he wasn't in such a hurry to get somewhere. His companions, William Turner and 'Captain' Jack Sparrow, had verbally sparred earlier in the day regarding Will's family and their status as pirates. It was inconsequential to Voldemort, so he left the two to argue and instead opted to explore the bowels of the ship. It wasn't particularly large, but he staked out a nice little corner that was only marginally wet to use later for sleeping and other slightly unnecessary tasks. When he returned to the deck, he was informed that they were going to a small port to recruit men. Apparently, if they wished to combat the pirates who took the Mudblood – and therefore his Time Turner – they would need a much bigger crew. The thought of more delays was, in a word, infuriating, but he somehow managed to keep his cool long enough to assure the men he was open to almost anything, at which point they dispersed to see to various tasks around the ship.

Voldemort had already expressed his complete and utter uselessness when it came to anything mechanical with the ship, so Sparrow put him at the wheel. Their course was already set, and it was his job to ensure they didn't drift anywhere else. Occasionally he would turn it, earning him a shout from the Turner fellow, but Voldemort only did it to see a rise from the young man. His sense of valour, honour and love was nauseating, and whenever they were alone, Turner only spoke about his girl, his Elizabeth, and how eager he was to find her. Yes, that was useful. Sparrow seemed more focused on getting a crew to go after the pirates, with the girls as an afterthought; both, in their own ways, would serve him in the end.

Their destination was a place called Tortuga. Based on the men's reactions to the port town, he had a sinking suspicion he was going to dislike it immensely. Turner seemed less than impressed with the idea, but Sparrow nearly bounced around the ship at the prospect; based on Sparrow's overall odor, he had to assume that the little town was going to be full of drunks. As long as they weren't there for days, he was fine with the slight detour. Mind you, the longer the Mudblood was with a band of rogue pirates, the more chances she had to annoy one of them enough to end her. While that was of little consequence to him personally, he knew he would have to at least bring her body back to the present (dead or alive) in order to avoid tampering with time too much. Naturally, they had done enough as it was, but they shouldn't do more than necessary.

Although, he had been pondering on that topic during his hours of spare time on the open ocean, and he tried to find the downside of altering the past to ensure a more successful future. It couldn't be anything dramatic, mind you, but if he somehow found his way to England, and by chance happened upon Potter's ancestors… Perhaps he could eliminate the chance of the boy being born and then sullying his first venture into domination of the wizarding world. That was a far cry from where he was now, yes, but it could always be a possibility. To do so, he would need to ensure Malfoy and the Mudblood were with him, least they do something – inadvertently or on purpose – to spoil any potential future plans.

There was still a considerable amount of issues to be worked out if he did want to do something, and at this point he simply focused on finding the Mudblood. Once he found her, they simply needed to find Lucius – which, if he had done his part right, shouldn't be too difficult. The aristocrat was essentially working on the same task as Turner and Sparrow at this point, and they were all in it to find that Elizabeth girl, and by extension the Mudblood. When he had the two of them in tow, he had no problem dragging them somewhere private and apparating back to a secure location; from there, he could decide if he wanted to go back with history unaltered or not.

For now, he stood at the front of the ship, hands behind his back and wand tucked securely up the jacket of his sleeve. He had been staring at nothing but water for some time now, lost in his own thoughts, and hadn't noticed the arrival of Sparrow. The smell was the only thing that alerted him of the man's presence, and his eyes flickered slightly to the left, making him flinch when he spotted Jack Sparrow leaning on the ship's railing beside him, right up and in his personal space. He blinked quickly and took a step to the side, refusing to completely give up his position at the helm just because someone else invaded his space.

"I thought we had you minding the ship," Sparrow started, hands folded neatly across his chest, an eyebrow cocked.

"I am," Voldemort remarked tightly.

"Well, if we end up drifting with the wind, what do you plan to do about it?" the man inquired, nodding back across the ship to the wheel. "Stare at the water?"

"We're fine. Still going straight."

The man retrieved something that was hanging off the side of his belt, and Voldemort soon saw that it was a compass. Sparrow opened the contraption and pointed it out ahead of him, head cocked to the side as the little needle spun about. Voldemort leaned only just a hint, but before he could read the direction, the man snapped the box back shut and stuffed it back onto his belt.

"Still headed east," Sparrow commented. "You're born for the sea, mate."

Voldemort sensed a bit of sarcasm in the man's tone, and he resisted the urge to draw out his wand and stab him in the eye. Couldn't use magic, after all… Instead, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the salty sea air, and then turned back toward the rear of the ship.

"Perhaps I should return to my post then."

"You know," Sparrow began after he took a few steps, "I don't quite understand you."

He paused, "What?"

"Turner's easy to read," the man explained, sauntering after him slowly. Voldemort turned back, quickly spotting the sword on the pirate's belt, and biding his time in the case of a sudden attack. "I mean, the boy's out here for his girl-"

"As am I," Voldemort said quickly, which made the man grin suddenly, showing off a handsome set of filthy teeth, a hint of gold glittering.

"See, that's where I think you're a liar," Sparrow insisted, taking a few wide strides and suddenly stopping in front of him. "You don't exactly look like the type to go on a daring adventure for some girl."

"Then I suppose you aren't very adept at reading people," Voldemort countered, his eyebrows shooting up. He would need to find a mirror somewhere to ensure his magical appearance wasn't wearing off, but thus far, no one had commented on seeing any changes.

"I think I do a fair job," Sparrow remarked, a hint more seriousness to his tone. Voldemort spotted an eye twitch, and the man leaned in, "Why are you really so persistent on coming along?"

"Why does it matter?" he asked, hands balling into fists, "As long as I do my part, I don't think my motives should be up for discussion."

"But see, you don't really have a part," the man insisted, matching Voldemort's attempt to step around him, "and I'm curious."

"What do _you_ get out of it?" Voldemort asked, "She isn't your girl. Neither of them are…"

"I suspect one of them isn't yours either."

He sucked in his cheeks, irritated. Had he really been that transparent? Love – or even infatuation – had always been a difficult one for him to fake. With women it seemed to work just fine, as a little flirtation went a long way, but it seemed someone was finally perceptive enough – despite his slightly drunken outer appearance – to catch him. However, despite the fact the pirate seemed to be trying to make him slip up, he didn't seem to have any other obvious agenda. His body language was not aggressive, nor did he sound taunting… Voldemort decided he could give a little, but he had to play his game carefully, as always.

"The girl is very important to me… right now," Voldemort worded carefully.

"Ahh…"

"She has something I want," he finished. That was all he planned to divulge, but he wasn't sure if that was all Sparrow would let him get away with. There was a moment of silence, a moment that others might consider tense, and Voldemort cocked his head to the side, awaiting a verdict.

Sparrow grinned again, "They've all got something we want, don't they?"

He wasn't particularly sure what the man was hinting at, but it seemed that he was finally going to let the issue drop. Voldemort gave him a hint of a smile, and it seemed as though they had come to some sort of odd understanding. He wasn't exactly a worthy opponent, but unlike the slightly straighter, easy to gauge Will Turner, this man might prove to be a little more useful in the near future than he had initially expected. However, this could simply be his persona when he's sober; if the stench was any indication of his normal state, Voldemort may not need to contend with him for much longer.

Sparrow strolled toward the rear of the ship, hopping up the steps to take his place in front of the wheel. Hands clasped behind his back, Voldemort followed him, eying him curiously.

"Tell me, Mr. Sparrow," he started, his eyes trained on the man's face. The evening was late, but the sky was impeccably clear. The moon illuminated the entire craft perfectly, but Sparrow's hat cast some shadows across his features. "Now, why does one become a pirate?"

The man placed his dirty hands on the large wooden wheel, contemplating his answer for a moment, and then shot Voldemort a smirk, "Girls."

"Really?"

"Well, there's the usual things," Sparrow carried on, ticking off each reason. "There's the money, the women… getting around the law with no repercussions…"

"No repercussions?" Voldemort repeated, "As I recall, we rescued you from a prison."

"Minor setback," the man fired back with a shrug. "It all seemed to work out… ended up with a ship."

"I suppose."

They settled into silence, and Voldemort leaned on the railing in front of the steering wheel, staring out onto the dark waters. The wind picked up suddenly; he felt the vessel rocking a little as Sparrow wrestled with the wheel to keep the boat from drifting.

"You know the best thing about being a captain of a pirate ship?" Sparrow asked after some time. Voldemort glanced back at him, an eyebrow arched, "Infamy… My name is known in every port, and when your name is in history, you get immortality."

"Immortality?" Voldemort repeated, "From people knowing your name?"

"Next best thing until I can find actual immortality, mate," the man insisted somewhat dreamily. Voldemort studied him over his shoulder, noting that there was a flicker of seriousness on his face for a brief moment, "Some people believe there are real ways to get immortality… in legend."

"I don't doubt that."

Sparrow seemed surprised, and he focused his attention on Voldemort, "Don't you?"

"There are some things in this world that can give you a very long life," Voldemort explained tightly.

"Most people think it's only the soul-"

"The body can live too," Voldemort insisted, finding himself interested in this specific topic, seeing as it was one that he studied intensely for decades.

Sparrow's eyes narrowed at him a hint, "Are you a spiritual man?"

"No."

"Do you believe in the supernatural at all?"

He pursed his lips, "I…do."

"There is magic in this world," Sparrow insisted, "and being captain of a ship as a man who can never die… Well, it's bound to be something we all dream about."

Voldemort nodded, returning his gaze to the water in silence.

"Do you think I'm insane?"

"Not in the slightest bit," Voldemort answered honestly. Even if he hadn't found his own form of immortality, he could appreciate the desire to have one's name in the history books for eternity. "I've found a method to achieve some kind of immortality…"

"Care to share it?"

Voldemort smirked a little, and continued to stare straight out over the dark sea, "I'll make you a deal, Sparrow."

"Hmm?"

"You find my girl before Turner's, and I'll let you in on my secrets," Voldemort offered, hands clasped neatly behind his back, "and my secrets are successful, I assure you."

"And how do you know that?"

"Personal experience," Voldemort replied, his tones clipped. He turned back to face the man, taking a stand directly in front of him, "There is magic in this world that you can scarcely imagine. Find my girl first, bring her to me intact with her belongings, and I will let you in on what I know…"

It wouldn't be a complete lie. If Sparrow proved himself, Lord Voldemort always rewards his successful servants. However, he would have to figure out exactly what he would give him in return for his services. Certainly not immortality by any means, but there would be something – perhaps in the Mudblood's endless bags of goodies – that he could give a worthwhile supporter, even if it was a Muggle. He wasn't about to ought himself as a wizard, but if Sparrow already had an inkling toward some sort of magic in this world, there had to be something he could use that was dumbed enough to keep his true secrets safe.

He waited for the man to respond, and he seemed to be contemplating his options. However, after a moment or so, he held out his hand, dirty and wrapped in some sort of sullied bandage, "Deal. I'll get you the girl you need but don't care for, and you help me with your… magic."

Voldemort smiled, a lie in his eyes, and shook the man's hand, "Deal."

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**SORRY! I know, I know, long time no update. It's probably going to happen again because exams are coming up for me in the near future, but then I'm done for the year. Huzzzzzaaaahhh! Freedom!**

**There was also going to be much more to this chapter, but when I finished this section, it felt acceptable to end it here. We'll be checking back in with Hermione and her situation in the next chapter somewhere in the near future – fingers crossed! **

**I think writing Jack and Voldemort together is actually super interesting, because both of them will manipulate the people around them to get exactly what they want. I don't think I'll be doing a Jack point-of-view section at any point, so we won't really know how much Jack believes Voldemort, or what his true aim is. Will Voldemort get played? Would that be surprising? Hmm. Excited. **


	10. Heater on Blast

Hermione stood at the helm of the ship, arms crossed around her, lips pressed tightly together. Considering the thick layer of smog that seemed to surround Barbossa's cursed ship wherever it went, it was a relatively nice day today. Bright blue waters, clear skies, and nothing for as far as the eye could see… She could understand why many Muggles sailed as a hobby. Once you got over the initial sea sickness and became accustomed to the continuous movement beneath you, it was actually quite a pleasant experience. However, a dozen or so scraggly pirates eyeing her as they worked around the ship ruined the atmosphere for her, and she continued to flinch at any sudden movement nearby.

Barbossa stood stop the upper deck of the ship, at the wheel, seemingly disinterested in anything that was going on with her at this very moment. Instead, Hermione had been dragged out of her room by the first mate shortly after sunrise that morning. It was the same pirate who had slapped Elizabeth during their first night in the ship, and she was incredibly uneasy around the man: tall, dark-skinned, cold eyes, and an immeasurable amount of piercings. Anyone ought to be a little nervous around him, and it was easy to see why he ran the ship while the captain was busy. He had a few poorly dressed pirates around him, but the rest were put to work and had been at it since Hermione made an appearance.

Her stomach gave an angry howl, but she tried her best to look unfazed by the pain. The first mate, however, seemed to notice her discomfort, and gave her something of a smirk.

"We told you… breakfast after magic," the man insisted, a hand resting on the hilt of a sword tucked neatly at his side.

"My magic isn't very good," Hermione argued weakly. "It's not going to impress you, I promise."

She was passed the point of pretending she couldn't do any at all. However, she also knew she wasn't good enough at wandless magic to perform the full array of spells she actually knew, so it was still partially truthful. Only Dumbledore and a few select others were exceptionally skilled with wandless magic… The rest of them sort of just chugged along doing the best they could.

"It's not meant to impress," the first mate remarked. "Show me what you can do, witch."

She sighed, and then shook her head, swallowing down her fear, "No. Magic isn't something you just… toss around on a whim."

"You know what we like to toss around?" a pirate to the right of the first mate grunted, shooting her a slightly toothless grin, "Witches… We like to toss 'em overboard and see how Davy Jones treats 'em. So get on with it!"

She felt so small and insignificant standing there, shifting her weight anxiously from one leg to the other, knowing full well that they all had the opportunity to throw her over the side of the ship at any moment. All magic aside, she had no real way to defend herself; her bag must have fallen off while she slept, and was still sitting in her little room as she hadn't had the time to grab it before she was hauled onto the deck. She liked to think she may have speed on her side, but with her bare feet and a slippery wooden deck, she was also sure that wasn't going to be much use to her when the time came. Therefore, she had to rely on her logic and word choice to get her through this.

"Look," she started, feeling the sweat run down her back, "why don't I just tell you about-"

"Magic," the first mate shouted. "Now!"

She flinched back and turned to the side, spotting a bucket abandoned by the edge of the ship. Her eyes narrowed a hint, and within a second she spat out, "_Avifors_!"

Nothing happened.

She blinked at it a few times; the charm was supposed to turn the bucket into a bird. It was a charm she had learned in her sixth year, and she had performed it perfectly on numerous occasions with her wand, and once or twice under Flitwick's careful coaching wandlessly. It may not have been her strongest spell, but she picked it for its ability to shock onlookers. However, with the stress of several pirates bearing down upon her, she wasn't able to perform.

She glanced back fearfully at the first mate, and he cocked his head to the side, clearly unimpressed. Hermione shook her head and forced herself to focus, pretending she was standing in the cool Charms classroom with her mentor nearby, rather than on a horribly hot deck of an undead pirate ship.

"_Avifors_," she said carefully, this time watching her enunciation.

One could never tell if wandless magic was a success; with wands, you could see the magic happening when it left its magical origin, but here, the person was the place of origin, and one never actually produced a flash of light. However, when she saw the bucket shrink, contort, and then develop feathers, she knew she had been successful on her second attempt. Moments later, the new bird took off from the floor of the ship, opting to land in amongst the sails, chirping noisily as it did. Pleased, she looked back to the leader of her little group, a small smile on her face, hoping that the demonstration would be sufficed.

However, the first mate simply stared back at her, and then shrugged, "I have no use for birds. Do something I can use."

"U-Use?" Hermione stammered, "I can't make you a weapon-"

"You _are_ the weapon, witch," the man spat. He grabbed hold of a nearby pirate and threw the man toward her, "Show me that you're useful."

Her eyes widened as the man lunged toward her, a small knife in hand and a devilish grin on his lips, and she released a squeak when she knocked into the railing of the ship. The waves crashed noisily behind her, sea spraying up to entice her in. However, there wasn't a moment to linger as any second he would be on her. Focus.

"_Flipendo_!" she shouted, darting out of the way. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw that the pirate had been thrust backward, knocking him off his feet and to the ground. She took a deep breath when she stopped, steadying herself for whatever else they had. She had left a warzone and fallen into a new one in the past; her brain had to still be ready to combat.

The pirate was back on his feet quickly, and she had to remember that typical pain wasn't going to keep him away. After all, he was a man who wasn't technically alive anymore, so he was bound to be a little more durable than the rest of the Death Eaters she had fought recently. He lunged forward again, and Hermione snapped, "_Locomotor mortis_!"

If she couldn't injure him, she might as well stop him. She watched as his legs locked together and he toppled over face-first into the deck of the ship. His fellow pirates burst out into a fit of sniggers as he tried to regain his footing, but eventually he gave in when he realized her spell was going to keep him locked down.

She heard of a bit of a scuffle, forcing her to look up and gasp as the first mate threw two pirates at her. Since she had seen success with her previous jinx, she used it on both men and watched them crumble to the ground, grunting and tugging at their legs. Another pair came at her to replace the ones that were down, but Hermione continued using the leg-locking jinx as a means to slow them down, backing away each time to give herself a safe distance.

When she looked back at the first mate, he seemed irritated that she hadn't done anything else. She watched him survey his fallen men, and then shoot her a bit of a glare. He withdrew his sword soundlessly, and she contemplated running back to her room while he was getting ready. The man was absolutely terrifying, and she had a feeling that if she threw another leg-locking jinx his way, there would be some sort of consequence to pay once he was free.

Lost in her thoughts for only a moment, Hermione's eyes widened as he lunged at her, screaming as he went, sword raised. She shrieked and ducked out of the way, unable to get the words out of her mouth properly. Hermione could hear the laughter around her as she waddled about on the wet deck, ducking here and there whenever she sensed a swing of a sword coming. Unfortunately, she lost her footing and tumbled against the railing of the ship, cowering down as the large first mate barreled toward her.

"_Incendio_," she cried meekly, but with enough focus to bring about a successful fire. It caught on the man's clothing, and he yelped as it quickly engulfed his body. The laughter stopped, and Hermione curled herself into a ball as the first mate ran toward her, but leapt over and off the ship, the heat of the flames uncomfortably close to her skin as he passed. Only when she heard the splash did she look up, and then struggle to her feet. Shaken, she stumbled back toward her room, ignoring the looks the pirates around her shot her way.

"Enough magic," she heard Barbossa call from his position atop the small staircase that led up to the upper deck. "Come here."

Hermione glanced back over her shoulder and spotted the first mate crawling back aboard the ship, scarred and burned, but healing rapidly under his curse. She gulped and scuttled forward, taking each step at a time until Barbossa told her to stop and sit. Naturally, she did as she was told, and flinched when she felt the pointed toe of a boot poking her back.

"Fix what you've done to my men," Barbossa ordered. She looked up at the man towering over her, surveying his damaged crew, and she silently muttered a soft _Finite incantatem_ as a means of restoring them all back to their former beings. Although she felt a tad more secure being around Barbossa, the murderous look in the first mate's eye as he stalked toward her was enough to put her off again, and she shrunk down like a coward.

"Find the witch something to eat," the captain ordered, and Hermione watched the man turn sharply and disappear below deck, which brought about a sigh of relief. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw that Barbossa had returned to the wheel, his small monkey lounging nearby, and the men around him filtered down the opposite staircase. They too disappeared below the deck of the ship, and aside from a few men cleaning the deck, Hermione was basically alone with the captain.

"You set a man on fire when you had no fire," Barbossa observed. Hermione moved up a step so that she could hear him better over the roar of the sea, but she nodded when he looked at her. "If I were any other god-fearing man, I would gut you and send you down to meet your maker."

She licked her lips, her skin burning under the ever-present sun, "But I take it you aren't?"

"I've learned to fear the gods," Barbossa explained. The first mate appeared once more and tossed a piece of bread at her, and then vanished. She only just managed to catch it, but at least it was warm and soft. "Magic should not be taken for granted."

"No," Hermione agreed softly. "No, it shouldn't."

She ripped off a piece of her loaf and stuffed it in her mouth. Even though it was soft, she needed something to drink to wash it down. Somehow she managed to pull through, swallowing piece after piece until she finished. It wouldn't be enough, not by far, to get her through the entire day, but it would keep her stomach quiet until nightfall.

"I want you to teach me your magic."

The request made her cringe a little, and Hermione looked up at the captain, studying his leathery face, his sharp eyes, and his firm grip on the wheel. This was a man who had ambition, and the desire to learn magic was certainly something she could appreciate. However, it wasn't something she could give him.

"I can't teach you magic," Hermione told him. "I'm sorry."

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as his eyes narrowed at her, and she quickly rose to her feet and took a few steps toward him.

"No, it's not that I don't want to," she explained quickly, "but it's not something you can pick up… You have to be born with the ability. If you haven't had any magical incidents now, you aren't… you aren't a wizard, and I can't help you become one."

He gazed out toward the water, eyes still narrowed, drumming his unkempt fingers on the large wooden wheel, "A wizard?"

"A male… witch."

"I assumed as much, thank you," he remarked, shooting her a bit of an amused look.

She licked her lips again, the sweat rolling down the side of her face. There was almost no shade anywhere on-board, and she would have given anything to be back in the slightly cooler room with Elizabeth. At least Barbossa had a wide-brimmed hat to shade his face, and he seemed immune to the heat.

"So you were born with this affliction?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow at the wording, but nodded regardless, "Yes."

"And your parents?"

"Neither possesses any magical ability," she remarked, "but they are very talented in their own field."

She couldn't tell if the captain thought it was a good or bad thing that someone was born without any magical ability. He kept his features schooled in a decidedly neutral way, and she discovered that unless he was making it quite obvious, she wasn't going to be able to figure out what the man was thinking.

"I… I have a question," Hermione said, unable to curb her natural curiosity much longer. He looked up at her, eyebrow raised, and she cleared her throat, "What does it feel like to be… cursed? If that's not too forward a question-"

"It feels like nothing," the captain grunted. "You feel as though there is no existence, no being. No hunger, no thirst, no wind, no touch… Nothing."

She couldn't imagine such a life. He was absolutely right; that was not an existence. They were living out a punishment, all of them, and she could sympathize with their drive to break this ridiculous curse once and for all.

"What will happen when the curse is broken?" she inquired, "Will you be free completely?"

"We can carry on with life," Barbossa replied. "A pirate's life is one of continuation, Hermione. We endure, and we thrive. With you… Well, I intend to thrive."

She blinked back her surprise, and tried to keep her expression calm, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he started, a slight grin on his lips, "is that you set a man on fire with no fire. I'd like to see if you can set a ship on fire with no fire. Think of the ammunition we'd save if it only took a simple word from you to destroy our enemies…"

Hermione felt her insides knot, and she shook her head, "No, no, I'm not good enough to do that."

She might have been. Her magic was limitless; it was a muscle she had every intention of perfecting as she continued to study, but she wasn't about to use it for some scumbag pirate captain who wanted to massacre fleets out in the Caribbean.

"I think when you've got a little pressure behind you, you're better than you think," Barbossa commented, reaching out to touch her face. Hermione, however, recoiled from the touch and took a step back.

"I won't use my magic to hurt people for you," Hermione told him flatly, which only made him smile.

"We'll see, witch… We'll see."

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**I apologize for the huge gap in update time. In all honesty, the muse for this story sort of just took a vacation, and I had no desire to work on it. I'm not going to force myself to produce crap chapters when I don't feel like working on it. It's been like that with all my Harry Potter fanfics, so they sort of went on a bit of a break. However, I'm getting back into a groove, and should do better in the near future. **

**Thank you all for your patience and support. I love seeing this story added to your alert lists, because it means you're out there waiting for an update! I'm going to try not to disappoint and keep it going strong!**


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